


Hold My Hand As I Hold My Breath

by kayura_sanada



Series: These Breaths We Breathe [7]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Albion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gwaine and Lancelot Are Great Friends, M/M, Marriage, canon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-06-02 20:58:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6582187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayura_sanada/pseuds/kayura_sanada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The final part to These Breaths We Breathe. Merlin and Arthur prepare to face their destinies - together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

" _Mer_ lin. Just go to sleep."

Merlin wriggled once more against Arthur's chest, completely unable to keep still despite how absolutely exhausted he was. It was almost hot beneath the covers on Arthur's bed. He'd spent some nights there, most of them after he'd nearly died and his magic had locked him in time – 'stasis,' Gaius had called it – and, rarely, back before Arthur had known of his magic, back when they'd still been having sex.

And crap. There was another problem creeping up.

"Merlin. I have a lot to do tomorrow–" Arthur caught himself. " _We_. _We_ have a lot to do tomorrow. We both need to get some sleep. So if you could stop puncturing me with your bony limbs?"

Merlin tried, for the hundredth time that night, to not puncture Arthur with his bony limbs. In fact, he went the extra mile and tried very, very hard to go to sleep. He even closed his eyes so hard spots pocked out of the black. He imagined drifting into dreamland, his body heavy and mind empty. Completely empty, because if he let any thoughts come in then he would–

Argh.

" _Merlin!"_

"I'm sorry!" He scrambled out from the bed, trying to kick off the covers and get away from Arthur at the same time. Arthur reached out for him, propped himself on one elbow, and managed to almost sit up by the time Merlin scrambled himself right off the edge of the bed. He hit the floor butt-first. In second place and nearly right behind his butt was his left elbow, which smacked itself at just the right angle to make that tingle of pain itch along the edge of his bones. Merlin groaned. Like he wasn't already in horrendous amounts of pain from his arm and the headache that refused to abate from his battles against Uther's assassins and Morgana – who also, it turned out, wanted to try her hand at assassinations. So just a lot of assassinations.

Arthur sighed. Merlin watched Arthur's face come into view up above him. That golden hair fell into those gorgeous eyes as Arthur decided to lie upon his bed sideways – and the very fact that it was wide enough to do that just, ugh – and propped his head upon his crossed arms. "What are you doing?"

Merlin looked around. Half of the blanket was wrapped around his legs. At least another quarter of it was draped all over the floor. He looked back up. "Um... sleeping on the floor?"

"Not with my blanket, you're not." Arthur reached out a hand to tug at the blanket curled around Merlin's ankle.

Merlin started untangling himself more gently. "I'll just go to Gaius and stay in my room, then. I can't sleep, so I should at least let you get your rest."

"You are not leaving," Arthur said, his voice just as dictatorial as usual. Merlin rolled his eyes. "And you're certainly not returning to that closet of a room. I've named you my consort. I kissed you in front of my entire kingdom." Merlin flushed horribly at the reminder of what had happened just hours earlier. He'd thought only about having Arthur back from Morgana's enchantment. At the time, exactly what it meant had been lost on him. "We are, at the very least, engaged. And as soon as possible, I plan to have us properly wed. If no church will do the ceremony, then I know of another group that might."

Merlin's brain exploded. In the messy aftermath, all he could hear, circling like some chirping bird, was the word _wed_. "What?"

Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes. "A king's consort can't be seen staying in the back of the physician's chambers. Really, Merlin. Stop fighting me!"

Merlin stopped fussing with the covers and crossed his arms, mimicking Arthur's previous position. "Fine! But I can't sleep; you'll just be sleepy and even more irritable if I stay."

Arthur yanked hard enough to force Merlin onto his back, still tangled in the red blankets. Merlin just barely kept from smacking his head against the floor. "This is about tomorrow, isn't it? You've already stood in front of the crowds hundreds of times. Stage fright now–"

"I was never the one they looked at!" Merlin said. "It was always you. I was just decoration. Servants never had to worry about being seen."

" _You_ always did," Arthur said with a smirk.

Merlin just barely kept from sticking him tongue out at the prat. "Yes, thank you. But – it's different. It's... it's bad enough your people saw us – I mean, they only just got the idea of me having... having magic, and now I'm also..."

"What? _I_ kissed _you_. And they've known you were my consort for quite some time, apparently." Arthur shifted a bit on the bed. Merlin didn't miss how Arthur's shifting dragged him another inch closer, bumping his legs solidly against the edge of the bed post. "None of this is new."

Merlin flushed. "It's one thing to be your consort and still be your servant. Not much changed. Yes, people asked for my help, but that wasn't anything revolutionary. I'd already had plenty of people trying to get to you through me – favors, opinions, secrets." The news made Arthur blink as if in surprise. Merlin rolled his eyes. "How could you possibly think people hadn't been trying to get to you through me? Information, opportunities. Most were just people vying for power, but some..." He shifted and shrugged again. "Well, anyway. I always had that. And others still came to me, because I'm..." he waved a hand. "Because of who I am and what I can do." He grimaced, then forced it out. "Because I have magic. They thought I would go against you, that I had a plan, or that I could be coerced to try to harm you."

Arthur's face had once more contorted into something he didn't recognize. He stared at it for a time. Slightly widened bright blue eyes, slightly furrowed brow. Lips in a frown, but the small wrinkles on his forehead showed more thought processing than Arthur in anger usually allowed. Surprise? Confusion? Anger? Worry?

Ah. Could it be? Could that actually be... shame?

Merlin sighed and plopped back, because there was no point in trying to deter Arthur in anything, even his most ridiculous emotions. "The _point_ , Arthur, is that nothing had changed until..." He waved a hand. Shivered. "And now what? I'm supposed to... stand up there and... and..." He waved his hand a bit more... emphatically. "Be all... princely? For the first time, knowing they know that I'm only there because you... like me in bed?"

Arthur's face contorted again. This time it was easily recognizable: the face of a prat. "I would never choose you as my king consort – nor would I have led you on so – if I were only interested in _sex_ , _Mer_ lin!"

"I know that, you dollophead!" The two shared glares for a moment. But, well, it was late, and they were tired, and it was just too much energy to do more. Merlin closed his eyes. "But the people won't. I mean, yes, I have magic, and yes, you decided to fight for me, so anyone who knows you or me or has any sense in their heads, they might see there's something more. But there are plenty who will see only that..." And he flushed just thinking about it. "I'm good in bed," he finished, because though he knew plenty of cruder ways to put it, he would need Gwaine to express them.

"Merlin." Arthur shifted again on the bed, as if he couldn't get comfortable. Well, he was leaning over the edge. "There will always be people who choose to think the worst of those in power. There will always be those who choose to think the worst of people in general. They are not who matter."

Merlin would not have expected any sort of wisdom from Arthur, despite the fact that the man had been raised to deal with these things. The words nonetheless held truth. So many people wanted to see Arthur as nothing better than his father, simply because he carried the Pendragon name. So many people chose to believe the worst in him, even with everything he'd done and everything he was doing.

He fidgeted on the floor. "And if they talk badly about you?"

Arthur eyed him. "You mean any worse than you do?"

It made Merlin laugh. "All right, all right." It took a while to untangle himself completely and get the comforter back into place, but he managed to get that done one second before Arthur grabbed him and pulled him down to the bed.

The kiss dove deeper than the one in front of the whole of the kingdom. Arthur's tongue peeked through Merlin's lips. Merlin wrapped his arms around those broad shoulders to Arthur's back. The kiss had no aim to it, despite how insistent it quickly became. Neither of them had the energy to go much farther that night. But now they twirled around one another, tangling their legs together in the sheets, their arms about one another's necks and waists, their fingers tracing along the contours of muscle and bone. Arthur's hands were so gentle as they traced along the bandages on his upper arm, as they held his head to keep it from sliding roughly against the sheets. Merlin finally broke off the kiss and gasped into Arthur's neck. He was hard, but he was sleepy, and they had, as Arthur had said, a big day starting in the early morning. He groaned.

"It's been too long," Arthur said quietly. When just before his touch had been firm and demanding, now it gentled to caress his shoulder, just above the stark white bandages. "It feels like we've had too many things happen; every time we get close..."

Merlin almost finished with, 'your dad found out and got angry.' But, well, that wouldn't do either of them any good. And Uther was dead now. Hence, perhaps, why they finally had the time.

In a horribly morbid way, it almost made Merlin giggle. Uther had worked very hard to keep his son from having a sex life.

"We'll rest tonight," Arthur said, sounding as if the words produced physical pain. Which, if Arthur was half as hard as Merlin, it probably did. "And we'll take our time tomorrow."

Merlin moaned. "That might have been possible before you said that last part."

Arthur shoved him lightly; it was still enough for him to lose his place on Arthur's chest and slide down his side. " _Mer_ lin!"

"I'll just... go take care of this," he mumbled. He moved to try to once more untangle his legs.

" _Oh_ , no," Arthur said. With both arms, he reached out and grabbed Merlin up. "You are not taking care of your problem and then leaving me to take care of mine. I am your king."

"And I'm your king consort," Merlin said on a quick retort. Then he realized what that sounded like and flushed.

Arthur's entire body softened immediately. "Yes. You are." And he pulled Merlin in for yet another kiss, his tongue licking at Merlin's lips, entreating entrance, before delving in. A claim. A promise. Merlin leaned back on the bed and let Arthur rise above him. His cock strained against his slacks, trying to meet the tent in Arthur's own. "While I would very much prefer this to be a bit more, I am very tired. Someone's kept me up all night shoving their bony appendages into me."

"You're a knight," Merlin panted, lifting his hips to rub against Arthur and make them both groan. "You're strong enough to handle a couple of bruises, aren't you?"

"Strong enough?" Arthur spluttered. "I'll show you strong enough." He grabbed Merlin's ass and yanked him up against his groin. The fabric of their clothing chafed against the sensitive flesh, but beyond that was the feel of Arthur's hard length bobbing against his own. Merlin threw his head back.

"I wish I knew a way to spell these clothes off us!"

"I should have known," Arthur grunted. "Of course your magic is useless when it counts, Merlin." And Arthur plopped Merlin back on the bed to divest himself of his pants. Merlin did the same, much faster, because Arthur did not have any practice at all with dressing or undressing himself. Because of this, Merlin's hands were the first free, and he immediately put them to use sliding between their bodies and awkwardly grabbing Arthur's dick. He cursed and jumped. "Dammit, Merlin!" But he didn't sound angry, so Merlin fisted the long, hot length in his fingers and slid up to the head. With one thumb he rubbed at the slit. Arthur groaned and snarled as his pants got tangled in the sheets and refused to come off. Merlin laughed. "Oh? Funny, is it?" Arthur gave up on his pants and thrust up into Merlin's hand, forcing him to move his thumb aside.

Arthur used Merlin's hand as a tool, pumping out a slow, regular rhythm within Merlin's fingers. He throwing his head back as he moved, arching his neck for Merlin to reach and lick. Merlin's cock throbbed as it hung untouched in the air. Merlin huffed against the place where he licked. "For a king, you're not looking after your subject very well."

"Subject?" Arthur smirked. Merlin knew he did; he knew that tone of voice. "I only see a consort in here."

Merlin opened his hand and flicked a finger against Arthur's dick. Arthur gasped above him. When Arthur bent his back to glare down at him, he sent his king a winning smile. "Want something, my lord?"

Arthur's eyes glinted. "Oh, I want _much_ , my _consort_." And he wrapped one hand around Merlin's weeping cock and tugged Merlin straight to the edge. "Will you refuse your king?"

Merlin arched up, his legs and arms spread-eagled to make access easier for Arthur. "Aren't I king consort? Doesn't that make _me_ a king, too?"

Arthur chuckled. "There you go. Now you're getting it." He leaned down and pulled Merlin into another kiss. "You're a king. My king. Not a companion."

A king. A horrifying, heady feeling that made Merlin's head spin. That gripped his chest and made it hard to breathe again. That made his heart race for the exit. Yet here he was. Staying. Despite it all.

He looked at Arthur. _For_ it all.

They didn't last long. All it took was rewrapping his hand around Arthur's dick and nibbling down that chest for Arthur to lose it. And all Arthur needed to do was shudder through his orgasm and continue pumping Merlin for him to come, as well. They shook against one another, and when they were done, Merlin ripped off the tangled sheet, and they fell against one another beneath the comforter. Arthur curled one arm around Merlin's back as Merlin snuggled into his chest, and within seconds, he was asleep.

* * *

"Thanks in large part to the attacks by the Lady Morgause, it appears most of the country fully supports your... relationship with..." The councilman stuttered to a halt, his eyes shifting toward Merlin. It was true that they'd known each other for almost two years; Merlin had become part of the inner circle of manservants who could, and thus would be forced to, enter these discussion rooms. He'd endured hours of standing at attention just so that Arthur could mock him for something afterward. Now, the biggest change should be Arthur sitting in Uther's seat. Instead, it was Merlin sitting where Arthur once had. Where once he'd stood apart, unimportant, his opinions unheard, now all eyes were on him. On what he would say.

"My consort," Arthur said. "They've accepted Merlin as my consort, despite my father's old laws on magic."

One man, a shorter, fatter one with a large mustache, spoke up. "Sire – Your Highness. Are you sure it's a good idea to abolish such laws? It will be seen as a coup."

"It may have, gentlemen, if not for the fact that the people chose it." Arthur steepled his fingers and leaned forward. It was his warning sign, as close to his fighting position as he got within this room. "As long as one's magic is used to help, as in to heal or to tend to crops or homes, or to entertain, and it does not harm someone, steal from them, or enchant them, it will be legal. The people have spoken."

"Sire!" A beanpole in a golden brown jacket stood. "That could greatly upset the balance of this country! Not only would it disturb the efforts of hard working people, it could lead to a repopulation from other countries – a change in work force, a veritable army of magic-users lying in wait."

Arthur sat straight and glared at the man attempting to loom over him. "Yes, it will necessitate major alterations, both in our laws and in our attitudes." He waited a long moment, until the man quailed and sat down. Then he turned to the full room. "That is why we are going to convene here every day and discuss this until we reach at least a few consensuses. And that better not take too long, because I expect to be able to give a more formal announcement of Merlin's new title before the week is out. First, the laws governing the usage of magic." Arthur turned to him. "Merlin." Merlin jumped. It was very clear that Arthur was trying to not roll his eyes. "You know more about magic than the rest of us combined. Your input will be of most use here."

Merlin shifted in his seat. "With all due respect, my lord," and he shifted again, because he wasn't certain if that was the term he should use for Arthur in public anymore, "I know very little. I... wasn't able to do much – my village knew nothing, and I hid it away all my life. I – King Uther had Gaius act as his expert on all things magic. His word would be better."

"That man hid secrets from the late king," the short, fat councilman said. "If anything, he should be tried for treason!"

Merlin's back stiffened as a few murmured their agreement.

"I will hear nothing more of this," Arthur said, his voice low. Merlin glanced at him. Arthur looked positively livid. "Gaius was a loyal friend to my father, and remains a loyal friend to me. He protected my consort while he risked his life to stay by my side. If you have any evidence that he actively attempted to harm my father or this country – and that excuse does not include protecting Merlin, which I am guilty of doing myself – I would love to hear it now. Or do you think the crime mine, as well?"

The men were suspiciously silent at that. Merlin shrunk from the looks aimed his way.

"You still believe me to be enchanted," Arthur said. "Of course you do. How could anyone love a sorcerer? They're all evil monsters. Yes?"

"Sire," the beanpole said. "We're only taking caution–"

"No. You're not. You're still showing your own biases. Twenty years ago, my father had to subdue sorcerers who took control and harmed others. But during that time, how many innocent people did he kill? How many magic users who tried to help? A man should be judged not on what he can do, but on what he does."

"But sire," one said, and this one's name was one Merlin could actually remember: Lord Thoroughby. Merlin remembered it because of how hard he'd ridden Merlin's ass when he'd first arrived. He'd thought the name suited. "Just after we learn the Lady Morgana has magic, we see her use it to attempt to destroy this kingdom. She murdered the king; her sister enslaved you. Surely you can see how this looks–"

"What I believe the country saw, Thoroughby, was Morgause and my consort battling using magic. While my sister killed my father, I watched my consort nearly die to protect him. To protect a man who, for months, had been plotting to have him killed in secret for said magic. Now, if you've had enough of attempting to insult my affianced?"

The men squirmed in their seats even more than Merlin did. His arm burned slightly from the ointment Gaius had rubbed on it before the meeting that morning. He kept himself from touching it, however, knowing how the men in the room were more likely to jump at the smell of wounded flesh than turn the other cheek. Arthur kept his gaze on his council, and Merlin just tried to keep himself from looking like the idiot everyone always took him for.

"Sire. We are voicing concerns over your sudden acceptance of magic," the fat councilman said. Merlin should probably learn the men's names. "Your defensiveness begs the question as to just what your motivations are. Is this really for the benefit of Camelot? Or is it just for the sake of one man?" The tubby man turned oily eyes on Merlin.

"I will not pretend Merlin had nothing to do with my decision," Arthur said, leaning forward just a bit more, his eyes as cold as a blade. "Of course, when I first found out, I was in a position where I had to choose a man's life over some old prejudices. I did not handle it well." Here, Arthur looked at him, his face tugging into a frown. Merlin beamed at him in response, trying to show it was all right. "I took my own confusion out on Merlin. But a life is a life, and should not be taken without evidence of harm. It was not, however, a decision I could make alone. Hence why I turned to the people."

"You should have come to us," Beanpole said, daring to nearly interrupt Arthur.

Arthur glared a warning at the man. "Why? Are you saying you're a better spokesperson for the people than their own voices?"

"The people – Camelot loves you. They want you happy. And they might _think_ this is for the best," Beanpole started.

"Enough." Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "So what you're trying to tell me is that your opinion is far more important than anyone else's."

The men cleared their throat. "You chose us for that reason," the fat man said. Arthur's lips thinned.

"Actually, my father did." He stood. The men, as one, leaned back in their seats. "Gentlemen. You are here for council. You are not the people, nor has it ever been implied that you are. You are here to give advice to your king, not to stand in for those to whom you clearly have no interest in listening. Whatever you may think about my – and their – motivations – it is your job to assist in carrying them out, not in attempting to choose for us." He turned away. "This council is adjourned, for the moment. I expect all of you to return here tomorrow with less adversarial conduct."

Merlin stumbled clumsily to his feet, apparently having forgotten what it was like to sit down, and fumbled through the beginnings of a bow before he realized he probably shouldn't. He flamed red up to his ears and hurried off after Arthur.

Arthur was already at the door by the time Merlin managed to catch up to him, only to find Arthur waiting with the door open. He flushed all over again as he remembered that they were supposed to be equals. His heart's pounding felt like wings beating against his chest. He gave Arthur a dopey smile and slid past Arthur into the corridor. It felt strange, moving past Arthur. Having him hold the door open instead of the other way around. Having Arthur at his back felt like he'd lost him entirely. He had to turn back around just to make sure it was really Arthur and not some lurking phantasm.

"So... was that for the best?" Merlin asked, biting his lip as he specifically waited for Arthur to come abreast of him before continuing down the hall. "The council is already having a hard time accepting everything that's happened. Pushing them into a corner could make things even worse."

"They're already in that corner," Arthur said, and Merlin realized Arthur wasn't just telling him to shut up or talking _at_ him. They were really doing this. Engaging in actual conversation. As equals. His heart fluttered all over again. "This is them lashing out because of it. They know they have nowhere to go. Even if I did listen to them and attempt to repeal the new stances I've taken, the people would be up in arms all over again. They may have started this fight for my sake, but they're following it through for their own."

People bowed as they passed, as usual, and Merlin nearly ducked back from Arthur on instinct. Someone caught his eye and quickly looked back down again. Merlin shivered. "So how bad is it going to be?"

"With them? Nothing more than headaches. With Camelot?" Arthur rolled his shoulders. "The people may have chosen to accept you, and thus to accept magic, but that doesn't mean they bothered considering all of the ramifications. An upsurge of magic in their everyday lives. Druids in the capital. New laws, the changing of old ones." Arthur smoothed his hand over his cheeks and chin, a motion he took whenever he needed to assure himself that he, if nothing else, looked the part of royalty. "I doubt they considered all of this to any extent when they spoke up. To them, there was merely an injustice happening before them, one committed to the man their prince loved, a man who protected him at all costs. In order to keep them comfortable, we'll have to move slowly. I don't know how that will be taken either way."

Merlin frowned, but he nodded. Change was never easy, but especially not this. If they had merely to take some grief from Arthur's council, they would count themselves lucky.

They passed the main halls and the guards silently guarding them on either side. Arthur nodded to his men as they passed. "Some sorcerers are also probably going to see this as a trap, and might try to attack first. I have to try to keep that from happening."

"How?"

Arthur shook his head, and Merlin immediately quieted. They were alone in the hall, at least for the moment, but that didn't mean that no one was listening.

They made it back to Arthur's room. On the table sat a small plate of snacks. Merlin went over and snatched up a few pieces first, nibbling on them as he wandered over to the fireplace. It had been stoked by someone – someone he could only hope wasn't George. Wouldn't that be horrible, to have been made king consort, only to have to bear George's company?

Wouldn't it be horrible to be waited on, by anyone?

He shifted, finally swallowing the food. "Well, good to see you embracing _some_ parts of being king," Arthur said. And he bent down to grab some food of his own.

No point in informing the man that he always stole a few bites from Arthur's food to see if any of it had been poisoned. He was fairly certain it was something king consorts weren't supposed to do. "I don't know enough magic to be able to protect Camelot's borders properly," he said. "I need to do proper research on magic. Learn more. I can only do that with the druids."

Arthur frowned. "I'm not willing to have you run too far from my side," he said. At Merlin's predictable eye roll, he said, "not just because of _that,_ _Mer_ lin. Of course I want you by my side for my own peace of mind–"

"And body," Merlin said with a snicker.

Arthur huffed. "Yes, _fine_. But also because there are people still who hold grudges against you. Like the man in the dungeon who harmed you. There are others who would do far more if they could get away with it. They might see you as an usurper, or an enchanter holding me under a spell. It would be safer if you stayed in the castle, at least for now."

Merlin frowned. Arthur sat at the table, but he was far too wound up to do the same. Besides, it still felt odd to walk and sit and move with Arthur as an equal. He still only saw himself as a servant, one who also happened to be a warlock. Arthur was the king, not him. To be honest, that was how he would prefer it. But being with Arthur meant compromise, and if some sort of title was what it took to stay by his side, then so be it. "But Arthur, I need to _learn_. Morgana knows so much more than me. As it is, she could easily steal straight back into Camelot, her sister with her, and we wouldn't know of it until she started attacking us again."

Arthur rolled his eyes again. "Sit _down_ , Merlin, before you trip over your scatterbrain." At Merlin's offended look, he said, "didn't you hear what I said earlier? The laws we make are going to allow many things the people may not be prepared for. Like, for instance, _druids entering Camelot._ " At Merlin's surprised grunt, Arthur sighed. "You don't have to skulk around anymore, Merlin. You're free to practice magic in the open. And so are the druids. You can learn with them. Here."

The concept nearly made Merlin's brain scatter, just as Arthur accused. Druids? Practicing magic? Inside the castle?

He must have made some sort of noise, because Arthur was giving him a funny look. An almost inscrutable one. "You never thought this could happen, did you?"

Mutely, Merlin shook his head.

Arthur sighed. "And some people actually think you orchestrated all this." He glared up. "Sit down already!"

Merlin sat.

They ate together, Merlin shifting and squirming so much Arthur got to glaring warningly at him whenever he so much as twitched. Merlin found the communion, shared in a way it never had been before, made his mind blank with happiness. He hadn't thought he would really want any of this, and certainly not that he would care for any of the so-called perks. But sitting together with Arthur at his table, knowing he wouldn't have to jump up and move away or tend to something else – knowing he was free to stay with Arthur like this, in the castle, where anyone could see them – made everything in him jump in nervous anticipation. A part of him still listened for approaching footsteps, but the rest... the rest just melted into the moment.

They could stay like this all day if they wanted (and if they didn't have several other things to do). This meant more than even Arthur probably understood. He was _equal_ to him. They could be together without Merlin having to slip out of the chair or the bed or the room entirely. Merlin could be a part of Arthur's life in a way he hadn't before.

Arthur cocked his head. "You're quiet. It's alarming. What's going on in that head of yours?"

Merlin only then realized he was smiling like a fool. "I can sit here."

Arthur opened his mouth, likely to say something flippant, but he stopped. After a short moment, he nodded. "It's true. This is different." A crooked smile graced those full lips. "I must admit to enjoying it."

Merlin smiled with him.

"Especially since you're being quiet for once." Merlin threw a grape at him. Arthur laughed. "There. That's more like it. Worrying again, I take it?"

"Not really," Merlin said. "Not yet. I mean, a part of me is waiting for a servant or knight to come striding down the hall, and I would have to jump up and pretend to tend the fire or something. But I know I don't have to do that anymore. It's... nice. I don't know what to do with it, but it's nice."

"You don't have to do anything with it." Arthur was already finished his plate, and Merlin realized he'd just been pushing his own food back and forth more than eating it. Arthur tilted his head. "I must admit to some difficulty of my own. Whenever I got too close to you, I would be reminded of your station, of how you were nothing more than a servant, and I couldn't allow anything more to happen between us. I thought how, while I may have called you friend if you were a noble, or even a knight like Lancelot, I could not say such to a servant." Arthur closed his eyes for a short time. They were still closed when he said, "my father once – and gods help me, saying such things about a dead man – but he crushed the morteus flower I retrieved for you, trying to teach me that servants would give their lives for me, and that – that they were dispensable."

Merlin had already known that Gwen and Arthur and Gaius had all gone through something in order to save him; he'd also known that Arthur had placed himself in horrible danger for his sake. It had made him so thankful, and so proud, and so horrified, all at once. "No life is dispensable," Merlin said. "But some are less dispensable than others. I would be happy to–"

" _Don't,"_ Arthur said harshly, opening his eyes to nearly snarl at Merlin. "You are never allowed to say that."

Merlin smiled softly. "Ordering your consort, Arthur?"

"Yes," he said, and stood, moving around the table. "I expect you to eat your share, as well, _consort_." When Arthur bent down for a kiss, Merlin leaned his head back to accept it. "Eat. We have to meet up with the knights. I have to induct some into the order, and they must all swear fealty to you."

Merlin's jaw dropped. "They have to what?"

"Guinevere, as well," Arthur said, "though we'll get to that later. At the announcement, preferably. That way, we don't have the entire country leaning on just us; it will make people think that, if I die, you will not be the only one in line to the throne. It will help settle the peoples' nerves somewhat, and will stop any immediate plans of assassination. Though I will not actually be giving her such status. She will be queen in name and deed, but not in succession." He sighed as he moved to the table, shifting some papers around. "I'll have to see what she wants; she will be forced into the role forever – though she already agreed to that – but after things settle, it will be made clear that she does not hold any chance to the throne after my death. It will cause upheaval no matter what, but getting people used to her in a position of power will help the transition for all of us." Arthur looked at him. "You understand, of course; while the people may at first _think_ she has rights to the throne, I have it well documented that she actually does not. If something happens to me, you will be king."

Merlin paled. "I won't let that happen." He bit his tongue to say the next words – that Merlin would die first. The pinch around Arthur's eyes told him he'd heard it, anyway.

"Whether you want it to happen or not," Arthur said, "it's a possibility. You are next in line now. By the end of the week, you will be officially known throughout the known world as my successor. There will be many who will attempt to move on you, either for favors or for ill gain or – or worse."

Merlin smiled. "I've had countless try to kill me for allying myself with you, Arthur." That punched look of shame crossed Arthur's face again. "I'm with you. And I'm stronger than I look. And... I'm not alone anymore." He shrugged. "Whatever happens, we can face it. I won't let anything happen to you."

Arthur's eyes darkened. "You are still mine. Not just one of my people now, but _mine_. It is not just my duty to protect you. It is my life."

Merlin's mind blanked again. The very fact that such words actually came out of Arthur's mouth... Merlin had to take a few moments to get control over his vocal cords again. "Okay. So if we have that, then we don't have to worry about... about succession. At least not yet." Things were new enough without being told that, should the worst come to pass, Merlin would be in charge of Camelot. Of, if Arthur truly had such a destiny to fulfill, the whole of Albion.

Arthur nodded and sat at the desk. "Well, we only have a few more minutes before we have to go, so maybe you should eat?"

Merlin looked down at his tray, then back up at Arthur. He looked back down once he caught the bright flush of red on his king's cheeks.

* * *

"We convene here to speak on two issues," Arthur said, standing before his throne,. Merlin stood stiff and awkward by his side. They both wore their best, which, for Arthur, meant his usual royal garb, complete with his red cape, and for Merlin meant borrowed clothing. Though, Arthur had seen fit to give him a red cape with Camelot's insignia on it, and perhaps that was the most important detail.

Gwaine grinned from ear to ear, casting Merlin look after look, wiggling his brows and looking back and forth between them with a leer. Merlin covered his mouth to keep from laughing. Arthur caught it, of course. "Could you _attempt_ to act like you earned this position, Sir Gwaine?"

Gwaine's brows shot up, and for an instant, his grin slipped. "What?"

"That's right. You're going to be receiving a title. _If_ you can pretend long enough to act like a knight." Gwaine stuck his tongue out at his king in front of the full congregation of knights surrounding him. Kay and several others gave him strongly disapproving looks. Leon, who stood at the head of them all, just closed his eyes as if willing for patience. "I gave you, Percival, and Lancelot the status of knight unofficially. This time, it will be as king."

Arthur stepped forward. "Gwaine. Percival. Lancelot. Step forward."

Lancelot was the one to step forward first, his stance strong, his eyes slightly wide as he stood before even Leon and knelt to one knee. He hung his head. Percival was next, and Gwaine slunk after the both of them, winking at Merlin before he knelt. Percival, even kneeling, was head and shoulders above the other two. Standing between the two of them, they looked like some sort of step ladder. Arthur stepped down to them, his cape flowing behind him. He held out his sword. "Do you, Lancelot, swear fealty to Camelot and to her oaths of service?"

Lancelot bowed still further. "I do swear my life and service to Camelot, to her king and her people. I swear to honor and uphold her laws and traditions, and to act with honor in all things."

Merlin couldn't see for sure how Lancelot was feeling, but he could imagine. He smiled brightly for his friend as Arthur placed his sword on Lancelot's shoulder and declared him an official knight of the realm. When Lancelot stood as bade, Merlin could see the tears in his eyes. Their gazes caught long enough for Merlin to send him another grin, and for Lancelot to smile back.

Percival's voice was surprisingly quiet at first, as if he was afraid that speaking would make this moment disappear. When no one interrupted him or laughed or told him to back away, his voice grew strong. And when he stood, he held his head high, so much more than a nobody from the countryside.

When Gwaine's turn came, Merlin was ready for the man to maul the oath to an inch of its life, and perhaps make a few sex jokes on the side. Instead, his voice was smooth, fluid, as he spoke the words that bound him to the country and its people. There was no hesitation. He was serious. By the slight flinching of Arthur's shoulders, Merlin could see Arthur was just as surprised as him. But apparently, at some point in his time with them, he had come to love Camelot.

But then he stopped, just at the end of the oath, and said, "I swear to honor and uphold her laws and her love of equality for all peoples. I cannot swear honor in all things, but I do swear myself to you and yours." Gwaine looked up then, breaking another tradition. "My sword is yours, title or no."

Merlin beamed. He thought he might just race down and hug the man. Of course, that probably wasn't the way a king consort should act. And it definitely wasn't the way a servant could act.

But he wasn't the only one smiling, and finally Arthur said, "stop trying to show up your fellow knights, Sir Gwaine. And lower your head."

Gwaine grinned and did as told. For once.

When all three stood together, Merlin's heart nearly burst. His friends each stood before him, their worlds changed for the better. By Arthur. The world opened for him, in this one instant, enough for him to see exactly what kind of world Arthur would create. Gwaine had said it himself – a world of equality. Perhaps there would always be people like servants, and people like nobles. But in Arthur's world, these people would all be recognized as indispensable.

Arthur's world accepted everyone.

"And now," Arthur said. "Perhaps the more important, and more difficult, of the two reasons we are here now." Arthur turned to Merlin and held out one hand. Merlin stared at it for a second before flushing and quickly stepping forward, nearly stumbling over himself, to reach out and come to Arthur's side. Arthur pressed his lips tightly together to keep from smirking. "Merlin is my king consort, and we are to be wed."

Gwaine whooped.

Merlin grinned, only to fall solemn when everyone else just stared at them. He only kept from fidgeting because of Arthur's hand squeezing tight against his. "I understand this may be difficult for many of you. Obviously, your loyalty is to me first. But with me comes Merlin. Whether you have a problem with this because he was once a servant or because of his magic–"

Gwaine practically jumped forward, bouncing in front of Merlin and kneeling before him, taking his free hand and bending his head over it. "Merlin, I would be honored to give my life in service to you. My king," he said, looking up quickly enough to catch the half-horrified look on Merlin's face. He laughed and stood. "Hey, by the way, speaking of magic – you have to let me spar with you. Just a little bit, I won't hurt him," he said, waving away whatever Arthur might have been about to say. "I am _so_ curious."

Someone patted Gwaine on the shoulder. Only when Gwaine turned slightly could Merlin see it was Lancelot. He smiled at Gwaine. "Could you move? You're not the only one who wants to swear fealty."

"Eh?" Merlin said. Arthur squeezed his hand a little tighter.

"Sire." Lancelot stood before him, calling him _sire_ like it was... like it was normal. Merlin had to bite his tongue to keep from correcting him. Lancelot bowed over his hand just as Gwaine had. Unlike Gwaine, however, who had made it almost like a game, Lancelot was intent as he bent down. "I swear my fealty to you, King Merlin, consort of His Highness, King Arthur. My sword, my shield, and my life, I lay before you, upon my honor as a knight and as a man." He kissed the back of Merlin's hand, right where a ring would be if he truly were a king. Merlin nearly snatched his hand from Lancelot's grasp.

When Merlin expected Percival next, it was Leon who stood before him once Lancelot moved away. He knelt and spoke as Lancelot had, handing his fealty over to Merlin as if he'd not once seen Merlin wrapped in rotten vegetables or covered head to toe in horse dung and hay. As if he hadn't watched Merlin tripping after Arthur or acting as his personal target or wearing that stupid hat. As if he hadn't worked loyally under a king who had wanted anyone like Merlin dead. He, too, kissed Merlin's finger. It was weird. Creepy. He took a second to grip Leon's hand and smile. Leon returned it easily.

Percival was next, but immediately after him was Kay, then Leopold. Another, and then Pell. And then it was a deluge of men, each of them kneeling before Merlin and vowing their lives to him. A few stood off to the side, watching the rest with narrowed gazes. But in the end, even they moved once Ulfius moved forward and, slowly, testing his aging joints, knelt before Merlin and pledged himself. Merlin stood stiffly before the man, ready for him to attack him. And while Ulfius did not kiss his finger, he did bow his head over it until his forehead touched Merlin's knuckles.

Every single knight swore their fealty, though the last of the few did so with stiff shoulders and curt, clipped sentences. Every last knight finally bowed as one to him, their promises standing in the air around them. Arthur looked at him, a slight frown on his lips. Usually, Merlin thought, the king held his sword over his men. Didn't they? He'd seen it done with a few knights, if they managed to pass Arthur's rigorous tests. But he, of course, didn't have a sword.

He bit his lip. It could backfire horribly. But every man bowed before him, and he was supposed to be their leader. In battle, Arthur always led his men. Merlin had to show that he belonged there, as well. That he would protect them.

"If you stand for me," Merlin murmured, his voice quiet because he didn't know if he could make it go any higher, "I will stand with you and keep you safe." He took a deep breath and looked to Arthur. Then, because he couldn't let this be something Arthur chose, he turned back. _"Scildaƥ!"_

In dozens of flashing lights, shields burst before each knight. Most jumped and grabbed for their swords. Gwaine grinned and poked the thing before him, making some unintelligible noise when his finger pressed against something solid. His grin nearly reached his ears. Lancelot bowed lower. Leon, after a short moment, followed suit.

The rest stared, most still standing as if ready to attack at a moment's notice. It was Kay who changed this; he pulled out his sword and held it before his face, point up, then knelt and laid it down on the floor before him. A sword for a shield. Trust for trust.

It took a few seconds for those in front of Kay to catch what he'd done, but as soon as they did, all of Merlin's friends did the same, even as short trickles did behind and around him. Many did not. But they at least pulled their hands from their swords, if only to keep them from seeming as if they were about to do as Kay had done.

Merlin looked at Arthur. He was carefully studying each knight's face, categorizing which didn't pay Merlin the same respect as others, which grimaced through the show of magic before them, each who bowed only slightly now, their hands clenched in fists. Merlin was the one to squeeze Arthur's hand this time. And when Arthur turned to him, he smiled.

It was progress. From here, they would make it through.

* * *

The second meeting of Arthur's council, held first thing in the morning, came directly on the heels of the two of them staying up nearly all night, not enjoying the fruits of their labor the way they both would have preferred, but instead by writing and rewriting invitations to druid leaders for a meeting in some neutral ground of their choosing. Well, by Arthur writing and demanding Merlin stay the hell in bed and rest, which he kept trying to _not_ do, despite the pain radiating from his arm and head. The invitations would be sent after their official announcement of Merlin's engagement to Arthur. Arthur had set up a meeting with the religious leaders Uther's great-grandfather had set up, a religious leader named a priest of a fairly new religion – one that had outlawed same sex partnerships almost two centuries ago. Merlin had no idea how that would go, but he could only suppose the answer to be 'poorly.' But Arthur had already made it clear – that religion was not his, nor was it Camelot's. And, in the end, his word as king trumped their words as priests.

Merlin was afraid it would cause tension, perhaps even an attack on Camelot. But Arthur wasn't too sure.

"They would never allow it," Arthur said on their way to the council chambers. "Uther liked them because of their stance on magic, which is about as good as their stance on same sex partnerships. But they hold little power here, and their laws are still new enough to have suspicion laced with them. The people of Albion, even those here in Camelot, where the teachings weren't spurned, follow the traditions of the old gods, whether or not they believe in them. Engaging here would mean becoming an enemy of everyone here. There aren't enough of them to present a force, and they do not allow magic." Arthur frowned at that, but it was inevitable; if Arthur faced battle, Merlin would be there, as well.

"By the time they got their warriors here, hopefully the druids will have joined us. While most of us wouldn't want to fight, we could easily shield," Merlin said. "Even alone, I could probably do it, if it's a small enough force. I... I think I would need to learn more to be able to encompass the entirety of Camelot, but it's probably possible..."

Arthur had clapped Merlin on the shoulder. "One thing at a time." And then they'd faced the council.

They at least attempted to move past the starting point of allowing magic and accepting Arthur's autonomy, but beyond that, they seemed stuck. How many to allow at once? Which actions to permit? How to control the population? The workforce? How much should they get paid? Should knights be sent out to ensure the people's protection? The druids' protection? How to do so without making it seem like a new way to capture magic-users? How to even know if something like an enchantment has been placed over someone?

Arthur had to reign them in at the end, if only to make a few laws clear. One, that all sorcerers were welcome, regardless of circumstance, so long as they were not guilty of a heinous crime such as murder or beguilement. Two, that all sorcerers would have to follow the laws of Camelot, just as non-sorcerers must. And three, that all must meet with the king and his consort to speak with him. On this, Arthur would not back down. Every single one of his councilmen wanted to register every sorcerer to enter the kingdom, but, as Merlin pointed out, this would be seen as a trap. And it was not a way to foster trust between the two of them. It was just another way to exclude them, all while pretending to accept.

Merlin stepped in a bit more after that, pointing out some of the ways magic could be used to harm – ways Arthur had likely never even thought of. Exacerbating a poison, cursing the land and water, even the people themselves. Ways that, after only a few examples, Merlin could see the light in Arthur's eyes brighten, as he realized Merlin knew them all because he'd experienced them all. As he realized Merlin had protected Arthur or Camelot from such occurrences.

The council members also wanted to impose limits on the number of sorcerers entering Camelot a day, or a fortnight, or a moon's passing. But, as Merlin pointed out, that would include registering every sorcerer. Arthur shot the motion down before it could go farther than a few murmurs of agreement.

"Enough, gentlemen," Arthur said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We'll start setting the laws in place tomorrow, and then we'll be informing the people."

"Sire!" The fat councilman called over the expanse of the table, catching Arthur as he made to stand. Arthur stared at the man in surprise. He wasn't the only one; his actions were a serious breach in etiquette. Merlin tensed.

Arthur slowly continued standing, only then bothering to tilt his head in inquiry. "Speak, Holden."

Holden. Right.

"Sire, do you not think you are moving too quickly?" he asked. "All this nons... change. You are placing this country in enough danger as it is! I cannot agree to it, let alone to your hastiness!"

Arthur's hands clenched. His lips thinned. He took a deep breath.

"Ask the people," Merlin said. Every last one of them stared at him, most with faces of contempt. Merlin raised his head. "Ask the people what they think. We came this far because of what they decided. Shouldn't they decide again?"

"Don't be foolish," Beanpole said. The way he said it – it sounded like he thought he was talking to a child. "The people have been given too much control as it is. They chose, in effect, to usurp their previous king. And while it's good they've shown their new king their loyalty, they cannot be allowed any more power. Surely you see this?" The man looked to Arthur, ignoring Merlin completely.

"No," Merlin said. He leaned forward, then stood. "The people were asked because it's their lives on the line. Their lives, their choices. Arth – your king," he said quickly, hoping desperately that no one called him on it, "recognized that truth. Laws pass not only because the people need them, but because the people want them. The people will not stand for things to return to the way they were, no matter how much anyone may wish otherwise. Listening to them does not mean caving in to their desires. It means being a good leader. The people will not follow someone they don't trust."

Someone snorted. Another, a man who barely spoke up in these meetings, rolled his eyes.

Arthur's lips pressed into perhaps the thinnest line yet. "The people either accept a law or they do not. The only thing to stop them is fear. Do you find it appropriate to make our own people fear us?"

"If it's necessary," the fat man said.

"And in what world is it necessary?" he asked, not letting the man continue. "We aren't speaking of the few who break the laws, bandits or thieves or outlaws. We're speaking of tradesmen, of mothers and fathers and farmers. Why would they need to be afraid?"

Arthur stood, then, and held his hand at Merlin's back. "We will ask the people. And you will be silent. If you're wise, you'll excuse yourself from the rest of these talks." Arthur outright scowled when the man made to protest. "You protest every step of the way. You dismiss and ridicule every word out of my consort's mouth. It seems you don't understand exactly what you're called to do in this room."

"Your consort is a _servant_ ," the man muttered, just barely loud enough for Merlin to hear, and then, "the _man_ is a _sorcerer_."

It was true that one of those truths alone would have been enough to doom Merlin. But Arthur just said, "you are excused of your duties entirely, Sir Holden. You will be escorted out of the castle. If you are wise, you will also make scarce your presence in this city."

Most men in the room spoke up at that. "Sire!" And, "you can't be serious!" And, "simply for speaking against you?"

"If it were merely that he spoke foully of these new laws or of my consort, all of you would be out on the streets." And just like that, every single man was silent again. "Mocking Camelot's people, ignoring their desires and going so far as to say we should bully them into submission – what right-minded king would allow such talk in his council room?"

Merlin bit his lip from stating the obvious – that Uther had allowed just that.

Apparently, Arthur's other council members were wise enough to keep their silence, as well.

"My knights will see you escorted out," Arthur said. "By the end of next week, we will be opening Camelot's doors to those with magic. If we wait too long, the people will think we are holding off, or planning something sinister. I will not have their faith in us wane."

It felt like they were going in circles with this council. While the world moved forward, Arthur's advisers seemed stuck in a loop that included only what they wanted. Merlin wanted to shake them; how could they expect anything to change, for better or for worse, if they insisted on remaining in one place for the rest of their lives?

True to his word, Arthur had a servant grab two knights to escort Holden out of the room and, Merlin could only presume, the castle. "Now," Arthur said when they were gone, "if we could actually get some work done, please?"

* * *

The rest of the meeting had gone well, even though the pain in Merlin's shoulder had reached nearly epic proportions by the time it ended. Arthur had been right about him needing to rest. Not like he would, of course. This wasn't something Arthur should have to face on his own. And even though they still hadn't gotten to anything Merlin was necessary for, he wanted to make sure Arthur knew he wasn't facing all of this alone. Which meant he would just have to deal with the pain until he could take care of it later. It wasn't the first time he faced hiding a wound and carrying on with his day, after all, and eventually, pain faded.

Not that Arthur listened to any of that.

"In bed, Merlin. Now. I mean it."

Merlin looked out the window. The sun shone brightly through the slits between the blinds, which Arthur had done a poor job of closing. He shook his head. "It's the middle of the day. There's still work to do, and–"

"And you have a splitting headache." At Merlin's surprised look, Arthur said, "as if I never have them at the end of these meetings. But yours is right on the heels of a head injury, and I will not have you getting worse instead of better. I intend to formally announce our wedding by the end of this week. How would it look if you were on death's door then?" Merlin didn't quite know, though he was certain it could potentially be bad. Arthur didn't give him time to answer, anyway. "Lie down. Anything we have to do can wait a couple of hours."

That was something Arthur had likely never said before in the history of his life. Merlin's lips quirked. "Usually you can't wait for me to do more work, _sire_."

Arthur wadded up a parchment and tossed it at Merlin's head. "Shut up and go to sleep!"

Merlin laughed. "And yet you give me no incentive to do so. Where's the threats of rotten cabbage? Mucking out the stables? Scrubbing your floors? Hm. Not seeing much of a reason to follow your orders anymore, _Your Highness_."

Arthur very slowly turned on him, and despite himself, Merlin found himself nearly taking a step back. Not like he was afraid of anything, but that show of power Arthur usually gave was back, and he was exuding strength even more than usual. Merlin nearly scrambled toward the bed, but Arthur caught his wrist. "Oh, no. You said you needed _incentive_. And, my dear _consort_ , that's what I intend to give you."

Merlin gave a high-pitched chuckle and scooted back, away from Arthur's other arm. Arthur just pulled him forward. "Uh..."

"Oh? What's the matter? Not enough _incentive?"_

And Arthur swooped down for a kiss.

Merlin squeaked. He also may have jumped. Arthur's lips were bruisingly hard for about one single moment, and then they turned soft, soft as butter, seeking entrance without force. Cajoling. Merlin opened willingly beneath them. He wrapped his arms tight around Arthur's neck, then, an instant later, lowered them to his shoulders, his upper arms, and squeezed. He pulled Arthur closer.

How long had it been since they'd done this? Since they'd gone all the way physically? Before Uther had found out. Weeks before, actually; things had been too busy for Arthur to have the time to risk being with his servant without worrying about being caught.

And now – now they didn't have to worry about it. Now they could just _be_ with each other, and if anyone interrupted, it would be on _them_ , not on Arthur or Merlin. They would merely be interrupting a king with his consort, with his betrothed. The only faux pas would be that it was daytime.

Merlin bent his head forward, licked around Arthur's gums and teeth, searching out his tongue so they could meld. His body thrummed with heat. He burned with it. Shivered in it. His fingertips traced down the lines of Arthur's collarbone to his chest, skimming along the edges of his pecs and swirling back up to his nipples. Merlin's breath caught as he stared.

"Incentive enough?" Arthur asked.

"Huh?" Merlin blinked his way back up to Arthur's face. "What? Oh." They'd been talking about something like that. "Right. Yes?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and lifted Merlin up. He squeaked. Merlin clutched at his shoulders as Arthur hefted him over to the bed. "Lose your clothes, Merlin," Arthur said, and dropped him to sit on the side of the bed while he stood before Merlin and divested himself of his own.

Oh. He really, really needed to learn how to magic clothes away. It needed to be a priority.

He hurried to do as told, his fingers tripping all over themselves as he pulled his cape off, pausing and gently folding it before placing it on the nightstand beside the bed. Then he scrambled with his shirt and pants. Arthur, having tossed his cape and shirt over the back of his dressing screen, managed to get his pants off before Merlin, somehow. Probably because, whenever Merlin moved to take off his shirt, he found himself wincing. Stupid injured arm. It wouldn't have been a problem if he hadn't pushed himself that day.

Arthur zeroed in on it, of course, and grabbed Merlin's wrist to stop him from trying again. "Allow me."

Merlin had expected Arthur to drag off his shirt and take Merlin's skin to his mouth. Instead he softly shushed the cloth down Merlin's arms, letting the sleeves catch and hold Merlin's arms fast to his sides. He dipped his head down for a kiss. Merlin leaned his head back. It was slow, suddenly. Arthur rubbed his lips against Merlin's, slid his tongue just inside Merlin's mouth and just tasted, slowly. The press of lips was the only contact between them until Arthur lifted a hand and put it against the back of Merlin's head, holding it up and tilting it at the same time, so that each tiny brush of tongue delved a little deeper. Merlin moaned.

Arthur slid his fingers down Merlin's sides, wrapped them around his hips, and slid them beneath the line of his pants. His breath left him in a rush. He looked at Merlin like he was the most important thing in Camelot. Like nothing else could possibly catch his eye.

Merlin pulled his shirt the rest of the way off, biting back his wince as it scraped over his bandages, and reached up.

It wasn't like he hadn't memorized Arthur's features long ago. First from staring, usually when Arthur wasn't looking. And then, much later, by touch. He knew Arthur's lips better than he knew his own; the full, almost pouty look of them, the soft, yielding touch of pink flesh. He knew the lines that too often pulled Arthur's lips into a frown. All of this he traced, his body trembling with the knowledge that they would come together. For the first time since Arthur knew him. Inside and out.

Arthur huffed and wiped at Merlin's eyes. "Are you crying?"

"But..." Merlin ran his hands down the sides of Arthur's jaw and shrugged. "There were some days when I thought this would never happen again."

Arthur closed his eyes. He leaned forward until his head bumped lightly against Merlin's. "I'm sorry."

Merlin shook his head. His skin rubbed against Arthur's. "No. That's never how I thought it. I just feared I'd lost my place by your side."

That wasn't quite it, either. Really, he'd just thought this closeness between them had been gone. He'd thought that, even if they did miraculously manage to make up, they would never get to this point again. And yes, Arthur had argued against such suppositions for weeks now, and had fought to change his country, and had named Merlin his consort, and had kissed him in front of all his people. And intellectually, Merlin had known that meant this would be the level of closeness they reached once more. In his head, he'd known this was a sure thing.

But it was only now, when this moment was upon him, that he knew for sure that it wasn't just words. That it wasn't just necessary for his kingdom, or his people, or something Arthur would find more an obligation than a desire. Once Arthur had said it would happen, it was a done deal. But willingly? Happily? That was something else.

It was happening. It was real.

Of course it was. How ridiculous could he be?

He drew Arthur's face down for another kiss, ignoring the bright sting of pain from his arm. Not caring that a headache was beginning to brew on the back of his head. Arthur led him backwards onto the bed, those hands working on Merlin's pants as they slid along the blankets. They stopped, lying lengthwise across the mattress, Arthur's lips teasing Merlin's own with quick advances and retreats. Arthur's hands could pull Merlin's clothes only partly down his legs before being unable to both pull them off and continue kissing. Merlin took a chance and shoved them away himself. Arthur gasped as the pants yanked themselves off. "What?" Arthur pulled back, looked down at Merlin's naked legs and the pants puddled between them, then back up at Merlin. Merlin knew full well his eyes were only just fading from gold.

He leaned up on his elbows and tried desperately to hide the pounding of his heart in his chest. "Arthur?"

Arthur looked back down at the pants. "You said you couldn't do that!"

"I can only move them. I don't have the coordination necessary to–"

Arthur launched himself on top of Merlin. Arthur's weight crashed him back down to the bed. He squeaked. "Are you telling me," Arthur said, "that you could have hurried this along from the start?"

Before Merlin could even think to answer, Arthur was at his throat, nibbling along the pulse to his collarbone. He sucked in a breath and moaned. He raised the lower half of his injured arm just enough to rest it against the back of Arthur's head. While Arthur trailed a wet line from his collarbone to his chest, he lifted his legs and spread them. Arthur nestled between them.

Merlin slid one hand down Arthur's side, as far as he could reach, even as he arched his back into Arthur's mouth. That warm tongue swirled around his nipple. He keened and gasped. "Arthur."

Arthur wrapped his lips around the puckered nub and sucked. Merlin arched right into Arthur's mouth. He clenched his hand into Arthur's hair, into his hip. Even with the quick efforts of the night before, it had still been far too long. Merlin rubbed himself against Arthur, grunting in frustration when he could only feel Arthur's chest against his groin.

"Calm down, Merlin," Arthur said, his breath playing cold against Merlin's wet skin. Merlin whimpered. "We have time."

"Says you," Merlin groused, and pulled Arthur closer. When physical strength failed him, he pulled on his magic. Arthur gasped and froze, but let Merlin pull him down.

He started slow, letting Arthur adjust to the power the man had probably never thought about like this before. He kissed Arthur's cheeks, his jaw, before carefully meeting his lips. Arthur sighed and let him in. He took the chance to reach down and cup his sac. Arthur groaned as Merlin slid his thumb between the mounds. "Fuck, Merlin." Arthur panted and leaned up, giving Merlin a little more room to work. Those bright eyes went hazy and dark, almost midnight blue as Arthur stared heavy-lidded into Merlin's gaze. Merlin lost his breath.

Arthur groaned. Those eyes slipped into slits. "Merlin," Arthur whispered. There was something in his voice that was more than just his name. Merlin tilted his head, but didn't stop playing with Arthur's balls. "Yes?" How odd to not add 'sire' to the sentence.

He was silent for a moment, but finally, Arthur gathered up his abundant courage and spoke. "I want you to take me."

The words made Merlin pause. He thought perhaps he'd misunderstood. "What?"

Arthur huffed and rolled his eyes. "Can you not hear?" But Merlin caught the trembling in his limbs.

This was something they'd never gotten to do. If anyone had ever caught them together, it could have been shameful enough. Arthur might have gotten away with it, had he said he was taking Merlin to ensure he didn't get a female servant pregnant. For Uther, if not for Arthur, that excuse would have been enough to allow their actions. But Merlin taking Arthur? There would be no way to explain that. No way but that Arthur was giving Merlin power, and acting like 'the female,' and was weak. It would never have been allowed.

Merlin sucked in a breath. But now, of course, they could. He nodded very enthusiastically. "Oh, yes. Definitely yes. Why are we talking?" He slid both hands down to Arthur's thighs. There was some awkward shuffling as they switched positions, Merlin pulling his legs together while Arthur straddled him instead. But when they were done, their dicks rubbed slightly against each other with each breath Merlin took. He watched Arthur run those hands down his chest and could hardly think for how much he loved the man. "Arthur," he said, but couldn't think enough to finish his thought. All he could see was the man above him.

Arthur rubbed against Merlin, those golden strands falling into his eyes as he pushed down on Merlin's chest and moved. The weight of him, pressing down against him, the power and control he could feel in the tight coils of muscle beneath his fingers. Something surged inside him. He tamped it down, letting Arthur take control for a moment, letting him play the hard, rough length of his dick against his own. The heat, the dryness that almost burned, brought him back from the edge. "Oil?" he asked. His throat nearly rasped. He licked his lips.

Arthur grunted. When the left, the sudden cold that flashed over Merlin made him shiver. He watched Arthur turn and reach for the top drawer of his nightstand, appreciating the ripple of sinew along his waist and back, the bunching of the muscles in his ass as he tensed it to stretch further. He couldn't help but touch it, grip the skin in his hands. Arthur hissed and fumbled with the contents of the drawer. " _Mer_ lin!"

Merlin grinned and cupped the bottom of one cheek. "Yes?"

Arthur cursed and scattered the items in his desk a bit more before finally snarling and yanking the bottle of oil. He uncorked it even as he turned back to Merlin. His fingers glistened as he poured the oil on them and slicked both his and Merlin's dicks. Together. Merlin groaned and dipped his head back. He murmured Arthur's name again as those fingers curled and pumped. It was slick and wet, the oil quickly turning hot from the heat from their erections. Arthur bent his shoulders and slid his other hand down Merlin's body, holding his weight up with his knees and thighs. Merlin felt the trembling of the muscles beneath this hand.

He reached up and took the vial of oil from Arthur, letting the liquid slick his own fingers before cupping Arthur's sac again. The man hissed above him, his hand nearly slipping off from around their members as he shuddered.

Merlin took his time, even though he felt like he was going to explode. For ever pump of Arthur's hand around his cock, he rubbed behind Arthur's sac with his fingers, around the perineum and back to the puckered hole of Arthur's entrance. Arthur's hand clenched around them before he let go and pressed his wet hand against Merlin's chest once more.

Carefully, he slipped the tiniest tip of his finger inside the tight ring of muscle. He'd never done this. They'd never gone this far. Merlin was likely the first to ever touch the inside of him. He could hardly breathe at the thought.

Tight. It was tighter than he'd been expecting, and he pulled out for a bit, not wanting to hurt. Arthur's breath was steady above him; the man was a warrior, used to endurance and discomfort. It would make it even harder for Merlin to tell if he'd gone too fast. So he grabbed more oil, slicked his finger as best he could, barely daring to warm it with his magic, afraid of burning himself. But it went fine, and Arthur shuddered at the hot liquid as Merlin rubbed the hole until his finger slipped around the soft skin. Only then did he press inside once more.

Arthur's hand slipped as Merlin pushed inside. Merlin caught him with his magic, his own finger freezing. "Arthur?"

Arthur placed his had above Merlin's shoulder, then did the same with the other. "I'm all right," Arthur said. There was a sort of breathlessness in his voice, one that made Merlin wary. Still, he let Arthur go. The mattress dipped slightly beneath the newly returned weight. His finger, so slick and wet it felt almost gross, slipped the tiniest bit more inside. The full tip of his finger was in. His stomach quivered with the sensation.

He knew, from experience, what it felt like for Arthur. The subtle intrusion, the natural need to expel the foreign object. The slight burn and ache, not necessarily horrible, but strange. And a sudden emptiness, a need to be filled. He could see it all in Arthur's eyes, even as he kept his face stoic. As if facing an enemy on the battlefield. And for Arthur, anything unknown was an enemy.

Merlin carefully pulled Arthur down and kissed him. He wanted desperately to show Arthur just how good it felt. How good all of it could feel, not just the penetrating but the being penetrated. He focused on fondling Arthur's sac, on trailing nibbling bites along Arthur's jaw and ear, on rubbing his cock against Arthur's. And slowly, in ever increasing increments, he pressed into that tight space.

At first, Arthur weathered it like one might an oncoming tide. Some inevitable, destructive event. But eventually, as Merlin got his finger in to the second digit and started wriggling, Arthur started to shiver and gasp. His blue eyes widened. His shoulders hunched. His body bucked. Merlin dared slide the finger all the way in and curl the digit. Arthur's breath hitched. He shuddered. "Oh," he breathed, and that breath was full of wonder.

Merlin beamed up at him. "It gets much better."

Arthur snorted. "Right. Well, this is you I'm counting on, so I won't get my hopes up too high, shan't I?"

Merlin wrinkled his nose. Oh, he'd show him.

He pulled out his finger and slid in two. Arthur gasped. Merlin worked his fingers around, making sure the second was wet and slick before carefully sliding them up ever further. He twisted them, then his entire wrist. Arthur jumped and groaned. When he separated them and started scissoring, Arthur whined deep in his throat. It was the sexiest thing Merlin had ever heard.

His fingers were thinner than Arthur's but slightly longer. It made him even more reluctant to hurry, despite how the muscles in Arthur's thighs and buttocks twitched. Despite how, with two fingers, he managed to find that wrinkled bump that had always made him go wild, and how touching it made Arthur jump on Merlin's thighs and shout. Merlin had to reconsider his earlier thought; Arthur's needy yell was definitely better than the whine.

Arthur's fingers clenched and unclenched in the blankets on either side of Merlin. He had felt Arthur over him several times before, but somehow it was so different like this. Even beneath Arthur, he felt such power. Stretching Arthur into readiness, pulling his fingers away and coating his sticky dick once more with oil before positioning it beneath Arthur's hole. The desire to protect him, to keep Arthur safe and happy in his arms, was almost overwhelming. He felt his magic once more bubbling beneath his skin and had to take several deep breaths. "Ready?" he asked.

In response, Arthur lowered himself onto Merlin's shaft.

Both sucked in a breath at the same time. The feeling was incredible. Painful. Heady. He gripped Arthur's hips and leaned his head back, his body demanding he thrust, his mind urging him to wait. Arthur had barely speared himself on Merlin's tip, his eyes glazed and nearly black, his full lips open as he panted.

Finally Arthur started squirming on top of him, his hips pulling from Merlin's grasp to take more of Merlin's length inside him. Merlin scrabbled for a handhold while his vision funneled to see Arthur, sunshine skin glistening, slowly sucking more of Merlin into him, those powerful thighs holding him up as he adjusted to the feel. And his face. Arthur bit his lip. His eyes shuttered closed. And with a flare of nostrils, he took Merlin almost completely, leaving only an inch. He tensed, and Merlin soothed him instinctively, knowing the preparation could never be fully enough for the awful stretch of a cock. If he'd been in more control, he might have been able to stop Arthur again, hold him suspended. But he was so busy keeping his magic dampened, he couldn't trust himself to let it go to protect Arthur properly.

He waited with bated breath for Arthur to adjust and unclench his ass and thighs. He rubbed up and down the man's legs and held himself perfectly still, until those little hiccuping pants had returned. Because after the pain came the terrible fullness, and the knowledge that they weren't moving.

Merlin slid a finger down the underside of Arthur's cock, waiting for it to remember what they were doing. What would be coming. He gritted his teeth to keep himself from ramming that last inch up into the warmth. Gods, he'd held himself under such tight control, he hadn't let himself appreciate Arthur's tight heat. But once he let himself notice it, he couldn't keep the knowledge away. "Arthur. Gods, you feel – oh, you feel incredible."

His skin sang and sparked. No matter how much he tried, his magic kept insisting it come out. But right now, at this moment, the very last thing he wanted to do was scare Arthur with his magic. The man was already vulnerable enough, in a position he'd never allowed himself before. Merlin wouldn't ruin that.

"Merlin." Arthur's voice was so tight. So deep, almost scratchy. It was right up there with the whine. "Merlin, if you don't start moving, I'm going to find a new consort."

Merlin moaned. He dared grip Arthur's hips and slowly, slowly lower the man all the way down. Arthur hissed and gulped noisily, but gave way to Merlin's cock without resistance. "As if," Merlin panted, "you could find anyone else who would put up with you."

Arthur huffed out a laugh. It made everything clench and twinge, and Merlin had to actually grind his teeth to keep still, to wait until Arthur stopped before moving again. "How dare you. My people love me."

"That's because they haven't gotten to know you," Merlin said, even as he lifted Arthur, daring to use to magic to make his muscles move. He had to stop immediately after, as his magic jumped and swirled and tried to burst free of him. "Arthur," he panted, cutting off whatever pathetic retort the man had been brewing up, "you need to do this."

"What is it?" Arthur quickly took his weight from Merlin. "Your arm?" He actually made to get off.

"No!" Merlin clutched onto Arthur again. In fact, now that Arthur mentioned it, his arm was burning like a fire. But that could wait. "No, it's not my arm. And you don't have to stop on my account." He had to get his breathing under control to continue. His magic roiled inside him, almost as if it was upset that he wasn't letting it out. He'd felt this before. He could control it.

Arthur looked at him for a long moment before he leaned down and kissed Merlin's forehead. "Let it go, Merlin. Let me feel all of you inside me."

Merlin jerked. His breath rushed out of him, and with it the thin tethers of his control. His magic surged out of him, roiling around Arthur and nearly pulsing with energy. It lit up the room like lightning. Merlin could hear it, like wind, like a storm. Like the fresh dew of a summer morning, or the baleful howling of a midnight zephyr. It didn't just wrap around Arthur this time, however. Merlin found himself pumping slowly into Arthur again. Both of them gasped at the feel of Merlin's magic soaring _inside_ of Arthur. But even as he tried to pull back, his magic cocooned Arthur from the inside out. Merlin groaned. His magic flared so hot it almost seemed to sear him. His hips jerked without permission. He only knew he'd hit that special place inside of Arthur because the man jumped and shouted and scraped his hands through the blankets. And Merlin kept hitting that place, though he had no thought for aim.

It felt as if the very essence of his self was pouring into Arthur. As if some piece of himself, something that made him what he was, left him and burst and wound and entered Arthur. It was pure gold in his sight, almost blinding. When this had happened before, his magic had acted as an armor around Arthur. This tie, it seemed more like it was entering the man's skin, tracing paths along his veins. But it didn't hurt him. It didn't hurt either of them. It felt like the entire world was opening its eyes and waking up. Blessing them. He couldn't explain it any better.

And while he felt the world welcome them, he felt his body seize white and gold. The tight hold of Arthur's ass around his cock, the huffs of breath Arthur made whenever Merlin surged inside him, the damp locks of sunlight hair sticking to his forehead and neck – everything made Merlin's instinct to protect grow higher. His magic reacted to it, until all he could feel was the elation of the very earth as Merlin thrust up one last time and came. He cried out.

Arthur grunted and wrapped his hand around his dick, barely pumping twice before he came, as well. They both lay there, sideways on the bed, trying to get their breath back. Merlin raised one heavy arm to touch Arthur's cheek. "Are you all right?"

Arthur's breath still hadn't gone back to normal. His body shuddered, his stomach contracting like dry heaves. His ass kept clenching on Merlin's dick, making him wince as his softened shaft protested the the tight squeeze. He ignored the pain, however, and cupped Arthur's face in both hands. "Arthur?"

Oh, gods. What if he'd really hurt him? What if he'd done something irrevocable? What if his magic had–

"Holy – Merlin." Arthur blinked as if waking from a dream. "That was..." Arthur leaned back on his hips, enough for a couple of inches of Merlin's limp cock to slide out. Arthur reached up a hand and held his head.

"I'm so sorry," Merlin said, barely daring to breathe. He didn't know what he'd done. He hadn't had any control over it, no matter what he'd thought. He had no clue how to go about fixing it. If it could even be fixed.

"What?" Arthur frowned, then tilted his head. "I'm not upset, or hurt. I feel fine. No. Amazing." His king actually grinned. "It was as if I was feeling you inside me and me inside you, all at once. As if the world spun around just us." He laughed. Laughed. Arthur. Over magic being used on him. "It was even better than last time. Is that going to keep happening now?"

"I..." Merlin had no idea how to respond. He dared pull out from inside Arthur. The man winced, and pouted – gods, the man had a beautiful pout – but didn't protest. "I don't know," he answered. "I kept myself under control before – before," he said, letting the thought trail off, unwilling to get into the usual argument at the moment. "But now – it's like all my magic wants to do is protect you. Just my body isn't enough any more. It wants me to give all of me to you."

Arthur leaned down, letting his cooling spend slide against both of them as he kissed Merlin deeply. "I don't want to see you holding that back from me again."

Arthur seemed so serious, even with his face still replete from release. Merlin could only nod in acquiescence. Arthur's skin felt so soft beneath his fingers. He got to feel it as those cheeks stretched into a smile. "We've made quite a mess."

Merlin mumbled. "I'll get some cloths."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "No, you will call out for a servant to get the cloths. And then you will shut the door and get back in bed, and we will discuss our next step in comfort."

Merlin flushed. Ask for a cloth? From a fellow servant? Who would know what they'd just done?

Arthur huffed. "You are such a girl."

Merlin lifted his chin. "It's weird!" he said, trying to defend himself. From the look in Arthur's eyes, it didn't work. He sighed and shuffled toward the door. Awkward. _So_ awkward. He had been a servant, too, a single week ago. And now he was ordering them around? Wouldn't everyone think he was getting above his station?

He'd just fought off all these fears, and now here they were running around in his head all over again. And he was naked. How could he call for a servant naked? He looked down and grabbed his pants and shirt, then tried to fix his hair. He dropped his shirt in the process.

Arthur sighed. Loudly. Merlin heard the dip and spring of the mattress and turned in time to watch Arthur, completely naked, head past him to the door. He opened it and waved someone forward, keeping his ass behind the door but twisting his chest out. He murmured quietly to someone before pulling back and closing the door. He shook his head and rolled his eyes when he turned back to Merlin. "Honestly, Merlin. It's a servant's job."

Merlin flushed and looked over Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "We are officially together, _Mer_ lin. Would it not seem stranger if we _didn't_ have sex?"

Merlin flushed harder.

Arthur made a disgusted noise and threw a cleaning brush at Merlin's head. The action made Merlin laugh as he dodged. Consort or no, it seemed at least some things might never change.

* * *

Arthur met up with the people of the new religion known as Christianity. Merlin couldn't follow, as he had agreed to work with Gwaine, Lancelot, and Percival on fighting someone with magic. So while Arthur traveled with Leopold and Kay to meet with the religious leaders, Merlin and his friends met on the side practice field, away from the other knights. That had been Lancelot's idea; he recognized how others might feel about the show of offensive magic more than even Merlin. "They will act on their old instincts," Lancelot had said. And, well, Merlin didn't want a war happening the instant Arthur left. Best to avoid any strain on the already tense relationships he had with people now.

From the start, Lancelot was the one most comfortable with it all; as soon as Merlin made a small fireball in his hand, Gwaine and Percival both froze. Lancelot was the one to initiate combat, running forward to swing his practice sword at Merlin's head. Merlin doubled back, thinking first to show how he'd managed to use his magic in secret for so long. He dropped the fireball. There wasn't much on the practice field; a bench to the side, a few practice dummies, and the knights themselves. He shifted the dirt beneath Lancelot's foot to be just a bit deeper than he expected. When he stumbled, Merlin retreated back. Gwaine grinned widely and joined the assault. Percival acted far more carefully, moving to flank Merlin. Merlin kept him busy with loose ties on his armor. The shoulder piece fell to the ground with a clang.

Gwaine got close, close enough for Merlin to see the white of his eyes. He moved fast, his arm almost a blur as he swung his sword. Merlin, on pure instinct, pushed until the sword flew from Gwaine's hands. It smacked against the outer wall of the practice grounds while Gwaine stared at his hands. Merlin dodged to the side, only to be faced with Lancelot again. " _Onbregdan,_ " he whispered, and reached out for Lancelot's sword as it flew to his hand. Lancelot recovered quickly, moving to punch Merlin, instead. He tossed the sword aside. " _Scilde_ ," he said. Lancelot's hand crashed against the shield. He hissed.

The grounds were fairly small, without affording much in the way of space and nothing in the way of cover. He was forced to retreat again as Gwaine came near, having used Lancelot's attack as distraction to retrieve his sword. Percival was scowling as he stripped off his armor entirely. "Come on, Merlin," Gwaine said, hunkering down and showing off a toothy grin. "If I go down, I don't want it to be from some embarrassing trip."

Merlin smiled. "Why? That's how most of the bandits Arthur's fought have gone down."

Gwaine guffawed. "Poor Arthur and his pride." And he attacked. Merlin. Percival came up from Merlin's other side to do the same. With no other choice, he shoved them both back. The power lanced out, more than he'd intended. Gwaine and Percival both hit opposite walls. Merlin froze. "Guys?"

Gwaine cursed loudly. Percival groaned. Merlin put his hands down. "I'm sorry," he said, backing away. Lancelot stopped reaching down for his sword and moved to Merlin's side. He reached for Merlin's shoulder. "I didn't mean to." He shrugged away from Lancelot's touch and hurried to Gwaine's side. "Gwaine? Are you all right?"

"What was that?" Gwaine asked. "Your eyes glowed, but you didn't say anything!"

Merlin grimaced. "Sometimes I don't have to?" Gwaine rubbed the back of his head. Merlin, afraid of a head injury, had him bend down further so he could look. There was a dent in Gwaine's pauldron. He thought of Percival, armorless, and blanched. "Lancelot? How's Percival?"

"He's all right," Lancelot said, and Merlin looked over his shoulder to see that Lancelot had already gone to check on his friend. "Looks like a backache, but nothing else. This wall was farther away."

Merlin closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have done this until I had more control over my magic."

"No way!" Gwaine leaned forward. "I mean, I would like to be able to test you again, but that was incredible! Merlin, you pushed us both back with just a thought. No, scratch that. You didn't even think about it."

Merlin turned when he heard movement behind him; Lancelot was helping Percival stand. The man made a short grimace of pain when he stood up, but the look only flashed before it was gone. Lancelot checked Percival, then smiled over at Merlin. "You held us off for a good while with nothing but those little tricks. Have you been in that situation before, where they got too close? What did you do then?"

Merlin's lips thinned. He looked down. "It depended o whether I had a tight leash on my magic – whether I thought I might get caught. If I thought I was safe, then I'd throw them back. If I didn't, then, well, my magic wouldn't bubble up so easily. I'd usually get hit."

Gwaine made a disgusted noise and stood. "Well, don't let that happen again. Especially now that you're going to be leading this country. Your first concern should be protecting yourself."

Merlin frowned, even as panic burst in his chest. Leading the nation? His mind flashed to images of using his magic over Camelot, or of riding at the head of the battle with Arthur, his magic bursting in his hands, or of a killer in the throne room reaching for him instead of Arthur. He thought of standing and handing down laws, of people looking up to him for guidance, of meeting with diplomats. He didn't know whether to feel terrified or excited, so he got a bastard mix of both. The onslaught made it difficult to breathe.

"Thank you for the practice," Percival said. Merlin turned blankly to the man. He shrugged. "You hardly did anything, but we fell. It's good to know."

Lancelot nodded. "I already knew magic was powerful," he said. "I'm sure you're stronger than most, since you don't have to always incant, but still. It's humbling to realize how much we've relied on you."

Gwaine snorted. "Humiliating is what it is."

Merlin sat back, unsure if he should accept their attempt to make him feel better or if he should argue. He focused instead on helping Gwaine to his feet, though his friend looked like he might have been humoring him. "We should get you two to Gaius."

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "We're fine, Merlin."

"You shouldn't talk back to your king," Lancelot said, and laughed when Merlin froze. Because of that, Lancelot and Percival left the area first, Percival walking under his own strength, save for a slight limp in his right leg. Gwaine made loud objections as Merlin followed after, barely having to hold the man up, but his heart pounding, nonetheless. They received a number of stares as they made their way down the corridors. After the first few, Gwaine demanded he walk under his own power, as well. Merlin feared it was more for his sake, so people didn't fear or hate him, than Gwaine's.

They made it to Gaius' and got checked out. Gaius took a quick look at Percival and named him fine save for a sprained hip. Gwaine, on the other hand, had a bump on the back of his head that had Gaius frowning. He was ordered to stay for the next few hours. Merlin took the look Gaius gave him full on the chin.

He needed to learn how to control his magic. Until he managed that, everything else had to take a backseat.

* * *

Merlin held his breath the first day he stepped into the throne room alone.

Arthur had demanded new finery for him, satin shirts and belts with the Pendragon insignia acting as the buckle. His pants had been traded for something much softer and lighter, to the point where he half feared he wore nothing. He took a short second to check, again, that he wasn't naked. George, of all people, stood behind him. Gwaine and Lancelot stood on either side of him. Gwaine nudged his arm. Lancelot gave him a soft smile.

It gave Merlin the strength to move in front of Arthur's people – in front of _his_ people – and stand before them. Everyone stared at him, waiting for something. He had nothing to offer them. Nothing but his magic, and that had no place here. He stood stupidly before his chair, refusing to go anywhere near Arthur's. The council, standing before Camelot's people, closest to the throne in order to hand out their council more easily during the proceedings, stared at him with wariness and resignation. Holden wasn't there, but even without him, a couple of those gazes were contemptuous, even hateful.

Merlin thought back to every time Arthur stood before his people and stood as straight as possible. There was no way he would ever have the same regal bearing as Arthur, but the least he could do was look Camelot's people in the eye. "Your king is away on business for the kingdom, and gives his apologies for being unable to hear your grievances himself. For now, I, as king consort, will hear your words, and do all I can for you."

There was likely more he should say, but he didn't know how much was too much, too forward. He wasn't even officially wed to Arthur yet. This was the most he could do.

Still, when he sat, Gwaine and Lancelot took their places before the dais, and George stood to attention behind him. And despite the looks on the faces of Arthur's councilmen, the people slowly stepped forward, one after the other, to speak with him.

His heart thrummed in his chest, but he leaned forward and gave the people every ounce of his attention.

* * *

Arthur returned a few days later. Merlin wasn't even aware of it at first; he was busy with a group of people who had come to Camelot because of a sickness in their crops, and he'd gotten the villagers put up in an inn, afraid they might be trying to gain access to the castle but unwilling to turn them away. He took what small amount of money he had and used it to pay for the villagers' suppers, and he'd been going through checking them all for injuries or illnesses themselves when Arthur, Leopold, and Kay rode through to the castle. The two men, woman, and child had just received their check-ups, during which Merlin used his magic to try to boost the health of the little girl, who looked far too thin for her growing frame, when Arthur came nearly bursting through the door. Merlin turned and blinked. "Arthur!"

The villagers all stood in a rush, nearly tripping over their boggy clothes to bow to their king. Merlin rushed to Arthur's side. He saw dirt on Arthur's cheek, in his hair, and didn't know whether to grin at the dishevelment or worry over its cause.

Arthur grabbed his arms, looked him up and down. He took a deep breath, nodded to himself, and turned to the villagers. "I've heard a little of you all already. Your crops are failing?"

One of the male villagers nodded. "Yes, Your Highness. There's a sickness of the land. The animals around our village's borders have run off. There's nothing left."

It was the story Merlin had heard before. People would usually blame magic, and really, they likely wouldn't be wrong. But it was perhaps the worst time, when Arthur was working to make the country more open to magic's use. Merlin turned to Arthur. He'd just come back from something that had obviously worn on him in some fashion, given the way he'd raced to Merlin's side.

"We'll take a look at your village as soon as possible," Arthur promised. Considering how tired and disheveled he looked, it was not something Merlin wanted him doing. He hoped he could talk Arthur out of heading out himself; he was king now, after all. "For now, please rest. We'll convene again in the courtroom at midday."

Merlin bent down to the little girl and smiled. "We'll see you again tomorrow, little Reya," he promised. The girl blinked wide brown eyes up at him. He patted her head. "Make sure you eat everything."

Those eyes widened impossibly further at the prospect of a full meal. She nodded solemnly before Merlin stood and stepped away.

The walk back to the castle was brisk; Arthur nodded to the people they passed, but said nothing as they went. The wind felt biting against Merlin's flesh, even though the night was clear and cool. The stars were luminous even behind the bright light of the fires at the street corners.

Arthur hurried Merlin into the castle and up the stairs to his – their – quarters. As soon as the door closed behind them, Arthur grabbed him by his arms and turned him back and forth. Merlin stumbled around for a bit before finally asking, "what happened?"

Arthur took a deep breath. "Nothing," he said, and smiled. His hands, however, still gripped Merlin tight. "I didn't believe it at first. But being around them – they believe very strongly in their one god," he said, pulling back and clearing his throat. He looked away. "After enough time, their conviction – well. They were wrong."

Merlin could only guess what had been said, but clearly it had been some sort of threat on him. He reached out and took hold of Arthur's belt. "Here," he said, and began undressing his king. "Let's get you in a bath. And, if there's time, me, as well."

The offer made Arthur grin widely. "Yes. That sounds best."

Merlin grinned right back.

* * *

Arthur sent Kay out with a small contingent of knights to find out what was happening in little Reya's village come the morning. He wanted to go down and meet with his knights, then hurry to the council to continue writing the laws. But after several days without Arthur by his side, Merlin had come to the conclusion that he needed to purge the last big secret from his chest. And so he woke Arthur himself, having dozed fitfully despite Arthur's return, and quietly said, "there's something I need to show you."

Thankfully, Arthur did not demand answers or argue. Instead, catching Merlin's mood, he merely nodded slightly and hurried through his breakfast.

Merlin took Arthur outside, and despite himself, he started shrinking in a little further with each step, as if, if he hunched his shoulders enough, he could just disappear and wouldn't have to deal with this next truth. Arthur had managed to forgive so much already. The lies, the manipulations. Even nearly killing Morgana, something he didn't think he could ever receive forgiveness for. Somehow, Arthur had managed it. But how could Arthur ever forgive Merlin putting his people in danger?

Arthur was silent through the whole trek from the castle to the town, and even from the town's limits to the forest. It was clear he was slightly uneasy at being outside Camelot's walls without his men. That would be a normal reaction, if Merlin weren't with him, and if they hadn't been just a few minutes' run. Still, his paranoia was instilled, and it had been for a reason. Merlin hurried his steps to get them to the clearing as quickly as possible.

Too much time had passed. He should have told Arthur about this back when he'd been purging himself of all his sins. He wondered if Arthur would hold that against him. They'd promised no more secrets. Shouldn't he have told Arthur about this then?

"Just spit it out, Merlin. Did something happen while I was away?"

Merlin looked back at Arthur at that one. The man didn't even know what they were doing. He'd been phenomenally patient, especially for him. Merlin flushed and looked down. "No. This is – this is the last big thing. The one final secret from before." Before you found out. Before we began walking this path together, side by side, instead of me following in your shadow.

He took a deep breath and waited.

Arthur sighed. "The last? You swear it?"

Merlin nodded fervently. "I honestly can't think of anything else? There's so much. I'd have to sift through a lot. But this is – this is the one I don't know you'll be able to – this is the last big one."

Arthur somehow managed to translate his rambling into something coherent, because his eyes narrowed. "More than Morgana?"

Merlin gulped and nodded.

Arthur covered his mouth and looked aside, his brows drawn very low. "Tell me from the start," he said finally, looking up. Merlin looked toward the clearing. They were only a couple of minutes away. "Don't tell me the worst first. Walk me through it."

Merlin grimaced as he realized that was what he'd been about to do – tell Arthur that he'd released the dragon from beneath Camelot and had lied about its death. So he nodded and stopped walking, turning to face Arthur fully. "The Knights of Medir happened," he said, marking the time. "I didn't know how to stop them. How to stop – I asked the dragon."

Arthur's face did something odd. Merlin wasn't certain what was going on in his head, but it seemed like a lot. "You asked the dragon."

"I didn't know," he said, and despite himself, he started talking quickly. "The first night I arrived in Camelot, I heard his voice–"

"Merlin," Arthur warned.

"And I didn't know what it was, so I followed it down to beneath the castle, and there he was, and he talked ridiculous stuff about me being your protector and us being two sides of the same coin–"

" _Merlin."_

"And Then when Sigan attacked, I needed a way to stop him, and the dragon would only give me the spell I needed if I promised to... to..."

" _You let the dragon escape?!"_ Arthur snapped, and the fury in it rivaled any Arthur had shown him before.

"I kept putting it off, saying no. I didn't trust him, no matter how much I needed his help to protect you. Because I never knew what was going on, or what to do. I never received any training or knowledge–"

Arthur put up his hand, visibly attempting to reign in his temper. "That's the monster you let loose," he said. Merlin wasn't quite sure what he was talking about. "And? You obviously let him go."

"I had to. He demanded I make an oath to let him go after he helped me take care of the Knights. An oath between those of magic – if I'd tried to break it, disaster would have struck."

"Disaster _did_ strike," Arthur said, and he lips, when he pressed them together, were thin. But for some reason, Merlin wasn't getting the same feeling of fury as he had the first few weeks after Arthur had learned of his magic. He dared continue.

"I tried to get him to promise not to harm Camelot, but he said I'd already asked for enough. I – I broke his chains with your sword."

Arthur's brow furrowed, and Merlin realized he would have to explain the sword he'd had the dragon made for Arthur. Later. Probably much later.

Arthur rubbed his face. "So you brought me out here for, what? In case my fury with your actions made me want to kill you?"

Merlin flinched. His mouth flapped a bit. "I – I didn't – are you?" He thought about that sentence structure. "Will you?"

"I don't know." Merlin stilled. "I mean, I don't know how angry I am!" Arthur said, realizing how that might have sounded. "You made an oath, a stupid one, to save my life and to save Camelot. And in so doing, you risked my life and the safety of Camelot."

Merlin closed his eyes. Well, there was a summation if ever he heard one.

"Wait," Arthur said, holding up a hand. "You say you heard it? It spoke to you? The first night you were here?"

Merlin nodded. "I heard it calling for me from the dungeon, and again from my room behind Gaius. I went to it, and it told me about the destiny we share." He shook his head at the memory, and of how he'd told the dragon just how wrong it had to be about Arthur.

"Is that how you knew so much?" Arthur asked, stepping forward. "You just kept asking the dragon?"

Merlin asked. "It was the one who spoke of destiny. And it knew so much about magic. I abused the privilege, as it was, and wore down its patience. And then I let it go, knowing it hated your father and blamed Camelot – I'm so sorry."

He wrung his hands as Arthur closed his eyes. "You say it spoke to you. What – why wouldn't it stop?"

"I asked. I begged. But he wouldn't. I guess he was too busy spitting fire from his mouth to answer?" Arthur didn't look impressed by this. Merlin cleared his throat. "He – he said later, he was so angry. But–"

"After?"

Merlin shuffled on his feet, even though he knew he shouldn't. He'd been careful to pick out one of his old servant's outfits that morning, just in case. He didn't want to wear anything that presumed or demanded – and he was certain the new shirts Arthur had commissioned for him would have done just that. They would look strange on him, anyway. He wasn't meant for any sort of finery. "That's why I brought you out here, actually. Because the great dragon is still alive."

Arthur froze.

He held up his hands. "I ordered him to stop."

Arthur snorted, but it wasn't amused. The man scoffed. "You ordered it to stop."

"I ordered him to stop hurting you, and to never return to Camelot." Merlin leaned forward. "I–"

"And why didn't you do this from the start, Merlin? Why did you allow it to attack my city, my _people_? When you could have just _ordered it away_?" Arthur's footstep, when he stamped forward, crunched into the grass.

Merlin lifted his arms helplessly. "I didn't have the ability yet. I didn't even know I _could_ have it."

Arthur's mouth opened. Closed. The hard furrow of his brows shifted. Something in his eyes shifted, too. "You didn't know about dragonlords back then."

Merlin nodded miserably. "I found out when – when Gaius told me about dragonlords, he told me about... about my father."

Arthur tensed. Covered his face. Breathed. Everything in him slumped. "Your father was a dragonlord."

Merlin's eyes sank to the ground. "Balinor."

A breath of silence. "Gods."

The silence in the next few heartbeats between them grew vast and wide, nearly powerful in its sudden cruelty. Merlin tried to keep his gaze up, on Arthur, without letting it fall to the ground. He barely kept his shoulders from hunching as time ticked past. It was no longer the window of opportunity for either of them to continue the conversation. Now, it was only the time to wonder if the calm would burst in fire or ice.

Arthur stepped forward again. The forest was brighter now, as if the day had come awash with streaks of gold through the canopy of leaves. It turned Arthur's hair into sunlight as he moved to stand tow to tow with Merlin, his sky-blue eyes burning on him. Merlin's heart skittered in his chest.

"Merlin."Arthur raised his hand. Merlin didn't flinch. Those callused fingers rested on his cheek. "Did I meet my mother that day with Morgause?"

Oh. Merlin's hands shook. How had he managed to forget about that one?

He held his breath and nodded.

Arthur closed his eyes. His fingertips were warm stones against Merlin's skin. "All these things I know now. All these burdens. You've been carrying them for me."

Merlin had no idea how to respond. So he said nothing.

"All these secrets. Not just yours. Not just mine. Morgana's. Gaius'. Your mother's. Your father's. _My_ father's." Arthur knelt down before Merlin, pulled his hands until Merlin had to lean over awkwardly. "Has everything in my life been a lie?"

Merlin shook his head so hard he nearly gave himself a headache. "No. Not what really matters." Arthur snorted. "Your father loved you. Your people love you. I love you." Merlin clenched Arthur's hands in his to try to hide the trembling in them. He thought Arthur might have seen it, anyway. "Everyone has their secrets, Arthur. Not all of them are meant to harm others."

Arthur snorted again and shifted away. The break of contact was like physical pain against Merlin's skin. "And my father?"

There was so much anger there. So much hurt. Merlin wondered, for an instant, if he should have kept quiet on that one, if nothing else. But he dismissed the thought. He could tell, on instinct, that if he'd kept the truth of Arthur's mother to himself, Arthur never would have forgiven him. And Arthur was right. He had the right to know. When Merlin had learned of Balinor, he'd been filled with a sense of betrayal, no matter what Gaius said about he and his mother protecting him. Arthur would be feeling the same way now. If Merlin had waited, the feeling would have been irreparable.

When Merlin took too long to answer, Arthur nodded and turned away from him, toward the clearing beyond. "All this time. His hatred of magic had just been him shifting the blame for what he himself had done. Just as I feared. And you let him." Merlin watched Arthur, ready for more anger, but his shoulders just slumped. "You, a magic user, protected him from a death that would only have helped you."

"It wouldn't have helped you," Merlin said.

"You, Merlin, are a fool." and Arthur rounded his shoulders back and looked toward the sky. Merlin made to leave, to give Arthur some time. But when he moved toward the castle, Arthur snaked out a hand and grabbed his wrist. "I wanted to know more about you. About the you who has magic." But Arthur didn't seem like he wanted to know at the moment. He seemed more like he was lost.

"I'm still me," Merlin said. "The same person I was before. Just as you would still be you without your skill with a sword, I am still me without my magic. Even though that skill is another way to define you, if you lost it, you would still be a great leader. Kind. Pragmatic. And a bit of a prat."

A ghost of a smile slid onto that face, and Merlin beamed Arthur a grin at the victory. Maybe – maybe things would be all right? "Everything I've told you, everything you've learned, doesn't change who I am. I still bumble around, trying to find out what to do and stumbling in the dark. If I were you, maybe I wouldn't have had to... to hurt Morgana, or to listen to the dragon. Maybe I could have done things differently. Found a way to keep from hurting you."

Shadows raced across Arthur's vision, but still he slid his fingers down Merlin's wrist and squeezed his hand. "No more sneaking in shadows," Arthur said, his voice hoarse. Like it was choked up. "I promise to listen to you next time. So if something happens, or you learn of something, you cannot keep it from me."

Merlin nodded. "You have no idea how much I've wanted that."

Arthur didn't say anything, just squeezed Merlin's hand again before turning away. "I take it, then, that you brought me out here to show me your skill with dragons?"

"Yes and no?" Merlin backed away, giving Arthur his space. "I brought you here to meet him." Arthur choked out a disbelieving laugh. "What happens with him, with me, is your decision, Arthur. He is the last of his kind, as I am the last of the Dragonlords. Just know that I serve you, and thus, so does he." Merlin shrugged again, not knowing what else to do. "Now. Now that I'm a Dragonlord, he does, at least."

"And, what?" Arthur asked. "You want me keep him around?"

"You are my king." Merlin dared reach out this time, carefully brushing a lock of hair from Arthur's eyes. He was gorgeous, his bearing regal even as his face told of grave indecision. "I want nothing more than for you to rule as you see fit. Because I know you'll make the right decision." At Arthur's dubious look, he said, "it's who you're destined to be."

Arthur just shook his head. "According to the dragon."

"According to ancient prophecy. And according to everything I know about you." Arthur's vision cleared slightly as he looked into Merlin's eyes. Merlin pushed every ounce of faith he felt into his stare. "You will do yourself proud, Arthur. You never allow for anything else."

Arthur sighed, and finally Merlin stepped back. After only one deep breath, Arthur nodded for them to continue. And they did.

When Arthur and Kilgharrah met, Kilgharrah bowed deeply. "Once and Future King," he said, and in that instant, with the last great dragon dipping its head to the ground before him, Arthur looked every inch the legend.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding approaches.

After Arthur met Kilgharrah, something in him changed.

Merlin didn't even know what to name it at first; it seemed like a fire had been lit inside of him. He dug into his paperwork, sent servants running all over the castle, and absolutely refused to answer any of Merlin's questions regarding what he was doing.

The meetings with his council went – well, smoother, and faster, and quieter. Mostly because Arthur began simply _telling_ his council what was going to happen and telling them to make sure it got done. Whenever a question arose about magic or the mishandling of it, Arthur would turn to Merlin, listen for his opinion, and then make his decision based solely on that. It took Merlin's own urging for Arthur to call in Gaius and start listening to _him_ first and Merlin second. As Merlin constantly reminded Arthur, he was no expert. He'd never received any training, and everything he managed was through Gaius' guidance, Kilgharrah's, or his own desperate studies through his own and Gaius' thin collection of magical tomes.

Arthur stood at the end of the week, halting the small murmurs that had become quite common in the council chambers, and stared out across the faces before him. “What we have managed to agree upon,” Merlin thought he heard those last words with a very cynical drawl, “will be introduced to the people tomorrow, along with my official engagement to Merlin.”

This was the first time Merlin was hearing of a conclusive date for this. He tried not to let his jaw drop.

“Thank you for your efforts today. That will be all.” And with that, he turned to leave. Merlin nearly tripped over himself following after him.

Arthur didn't even wait for the door behind them to finish closing before he said, “I'll have something ready for you to wear by tomorrow. Guinevere insisted on being involved with the process, so I'm certain it will be amazing.”

“Arthur. Arthur, slow down. Are you ever going to tell me what's gotten into you?”

Arthur gave him an uncomprehending look. As if he hadn't been acting odd lately. As if his steamrolling his council was completely normal.

“Arthur?”

He sighed. The weight of a thousand worlds sat behind it. “You are a Dragonlord.”

“Yes?” Merlin said, unsure of where exactly that would lead. Arthur had said nothing about it since meeting Kilgharrah, and Merlin couldn't help but think that a larger, more angry response should have erupted by now.

“Did you know?” he said, the switch making Merlin's brows furrow further, “after meeting Balinor, I looked it up. Dragonlords had their own part of this kingdom. Most of the southern border, in fact.”

Merlin nearly tripped over his own feet. He sucked in a sharp breath. No. He hadn't known.

“It was a small country, but it lived well with its neighbors. Until my father. He said the Dragonlords, as magic users, were no better than the sorcerers who had laid waste to this kingdom. He hunted them down, in their own country, and slaughtered them. Of course, reading it then, with the dragon having just attacked Camelot, I'd agreed with his methods.” He laughed bitterly to himself. It was a horrible sound. “And now, I find that my father's own guilt led him to such an act. And that my consort is the last surviving member of the group my father had killed.”

There was so much pain in Arthur's voice. Merlin didn't know how to soothe it.

They made the rest of the walk back to Arthur's quarters in silence. Arthur had a mountain of paperwork to get done, not even including all of the finalizations of the law he'd rushed forward. Merlin set to working on those, looking over everything on the paper for missed restrictions or clearer wording. But while he went to work, Arthur moved to his window. His gaze fixed itself on the city below while Merlin wrestled with the paper and struggled to find a single way to make it right.

“Merlin,” Arthur said, breaking the silence after it had grown to something almost tangible. “There's something I want to ask you.”

Merlin tilted his head, pulling his gaze from the work before him and giving his full attention to Arthur. “Yes?”

His king leaned against the sill, his arms crossed. “What would you say to remaking that kingdom?”

It took a very long time for Merlin to understand what Arthur was asking. When he did, his jaw dropped. “What?”

Arthur glared over his shoulder. “You heard me.”

Merlin was flabbergasted. Was Arthur actually asking him if he wanted his peoples' kingdom back? No, not just that, was it? He was the last, the very last, Dragonlord. Arthur was asking if he wanted that title back. His entire being balked at the idea.

Of course, there was the other side of it. If he received that land, that title, then he would be equivalent to a king in his country. He and Arthur would rule as equals on that stage, side-by-side, as allied countries. No doubt Arthur had already considered this. It would be the best way to give Merlin his own autonomy, equality. He would no longer be consort.

He took to one knee and bowed his head. “Arthur – my king.” His words made Arthur stand straight. “If I am to receive such a kingdom, then I give it to you.”

Arthur breathed deeply through his nose, then stepped forward. He put one hand on Merlin's shoulder. “Get up, Merlin,” he said, his voice soft. Merlin raised his head, but did not stand.

“I believe you will be the one to unite all of Albion,” Merlin said. He had no idea how Arthur could look more gorgeous than the moment before, but standing before him, hair shining like the sun, eyes sparking like blue flame, he looked like a triumphant god. To think Arthur had been willing to give up part of his kingdom to try to right a wrong done to Merlin's people. To his father. He sucked in a breath and ducked his head, fighting tears. “If my country is the first to join with you, then it would be an honor beyond measure.”

Silence. When he looked up, Arthur's eyes were closed in something almost like pain. As he watched, Arthur groaned and sank to his knees. He pulled Merlin into a deep kiss.

 

* * *

Gwen almost looked more nervous than him.

He wasn't even certain how that was possible. There he was, nearly panting in panic as George and two other servants, John and Francis, worked on the finishing touches of his ostentatious outfit. More than just the new, dark pants or the bright white shirt with the Pendragon crest emblazoned on the left breast, there was an unnecessary assortment of golden belts and tassels, some strange amulet thing around his neck that linked to more golden chains around his shoulders, boots that had golden stitching on them, a long red cape with the golden Pendragon crest – he hardly knew what he was wearing anymore, other than that it looked shiny and expensive and felt heavy as hell. But Gwen had overseen the last bits and had clapped her hands together like she was wonderstruck, and how could he say anything but thank you to her when she looked so expectant?

Not to say Gwen didn't look ostentatious, too. She wore a bright red dress with sheer stuff flowing over her shoulders and down her back and arms. Though, he noticed immediately, she wore no crest on her clothes. It was all the sign Arthur would give this day, as they prepared to make Gwen a scapegoat more than anything else. Queen, but not married to her king. Yet still, she looked happy. Happy and nervous, as she twisted her fingers together and shifted from foot to foot. Merlin moved to her side and placed a hand on her arm. John and Francis scuttled along behind him. “Are you all right?”

She turned watery eyes on him. “Oh!” Her hair was up in some strange do, wrapped up into a red tassel that left countless curls slipping down her shoulders to her back. Her dark eyes sparkled and gleamed. She looked as if she was standing at a precipice, but was happy about the fall. “Merlin, I'm sorry.” She carefully dabbed at her eyes, clearly not wanting to smudge her make-up. Merlin would have offered his own arm, but with such a starchly white shirt on, he was terrified of touching anything, let alone wet make-up. “I'm just – this is such a happy day, isn't it? You and Arthur, finally getting together. And me... I never would have expected anything like this, not in my whole life.”

He gripped her arm tighter, squeezing for just a moment before letting go. “You deserve it, and more. I know you have feelings for Arthur.”

She shook her head. “Oh, Merlin,” she sighed, “I do. But I also know there's nothing that could separate you. If I did somehow get to be with him, I know I would never have him to myself. I would always have to share whim with you. I think the two of you are part of one another, in a way Arthur and I could never be. This,” she said with a nod, “is for the best. You are meant to be by his side.”

He stared at her. He'd always known Gwen was wise and beautiful. The knowledge hit him again in this moment. Without knowing anything about him or his destiny, she saw to the heart of him. He nearly hugged her before someone grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him away.

“Honestly, _Mer_ lin!” Arthur said, making Merlin jump, “I can't leave you for five minutes! If you hug her now, you'll be going out wearing an imprint of her face on your shirt.”

John and Francis bowed low and beat a hasty retreat.

Gwen blushed and looked away. Merlin turned on Arthur. “Then it would be your fault, wouldn't it, for putting me in white!”

Arthur smirked. “You should get used to it, Merlin. It's good practice for our wedding ceremony. You're more a girl than me, after all.”

Merlin spluttered. “I'm not a woman!”

Gwen laughed.

It somehow broke the tension that had been slowly mounting, and Arthur grinned easily down at the two of them, his vestments perhaps even fancier than Merlin's own. His boots rode high on his calves, covering the length of his own black pants. His shirt, however, was red, with all the available accoutrements of office, the tassels and chains and rings of his rank. None, however, gleamed more brightly than the crown circling his head.

And then Arthur held out his hand. “Ready?” he asked, and while the teasing glint still shimmered in his gaze, his smile was soft.

Merlin beamed and took Arthur's hand in his own. “Ready.”

The knights bowed as they reached the balcony, even Gwaine giving him due reverence, thought not without a wink. He was the one to open the doors for them. Gwen took her place behind them and to Merlin's right, while Merlin stood by Arthur's side. As equals. The moment they exited the castle, the people of Camelot burst into cheers.

Merlin felt tears burn in his eyes.

Arthur had sent for Merlin's mother. She stood to his right with Gaius, holding a place of honor as the family of Arthur's consort. His mother was already crying; she held her hands to her lips as if in prayer and nodded as he stepped to the balcony's railing. His eyes caught on her, stayed, before sweeping out over the public.

The crowd gathered below them now stretched so far Merlin feared more than just the whole of Camelot had come. The entire city seemed to be filled with people, a veritable sea of faces too far away for him to discern. Was this what Arthur and his father had always seen when they'd stepped onto this platform? How did they feel to have so many eyes on them, so many lives dependent on them?

Merlin looked to Arthur. He only had one life to watch over, and even that sometimes felt too much to bear.

Arthur raised their linked hands, and if anything, the cheers grew even louder. “Citizens of Camelot!” Arthur called. His voice boomed over the crowd, no magic involved. As always, Merlin found himself breathless. “Though I'm certain you already know why we're here, it still brings me no small pleasure to stand before you all today.” Arthur lowered their hands and turned to Merlin. “I stand here with my King Consort and Queen In Standing.” The cheers hesitated for an instant, but Arthur did not falter. “One, I shall take as mine. The other shall take a seat beside us. Guinevere stands as a promise to all of you, that the Pendragon line will not abandon its people to confusion and anarchy, despite how difficult our situation may seem. Your queen will continue the Pendragon legacy, as my consort and I cannot.”

Gwen, despite practically being labeled a brood mare, stood tall, a smile beaming ten miles wide on her face. The people stood silent. Staring.

Arthur raised his hand from Merlin's to clasp him on the shoulder. When Merlin turned, it was to find a proud smile pulling on Arthur's cheeks. “Merlin and I are to be wed; we will not be parted. Guinevere stands as your queen, our queen, but not as mine.”

The crowd began to murmur below. Gwen stood tall and regal before it, even as Merlin clenched up. “She is still to be your queen,” he said, daring to raise his voice just slightly. He saw Gwen turning to him from the corner of his eye. “Many of you know her. You know how much she cares for Camelot. Would you rather have someone with more power, but less love? She and Ar – she and your king may not be wed, but they will rule well together, and for your benefit. Is that not enough?”

Arthur squeezed his shoulder and stepped forward. “I have left the decision of my betrothal to all of you. You chose the man I love, and for that I will forever be grateful to you all. But I cannot leave Camelot weak. I chose Guinevere not just because of her love for our people or her loyalty to me. I chose her because she stayed loyal to _Merlin_ , despite learning of his magic, without a breath of hesitation. That is the woman whom I would have lead you all with us. Would you have chosen any different?”

The silence remained for only a few more seconds before someone cheered. And then another, and another, and Merlin let out a gusty sigh of relief as the crowd roared once again. He dared a look to Gwen to see her cheeks wet with tears. He bit his lip. She was going to ruin her make-up.

“The wedding between myself and Merlin will be before the autumn,” Arthur announced, and Merlin's brows rose. This was news to him. But when Arthur raised their hands, still linked together, and the crowd below them burst into ecstatic cheers, he found he couldn't muster up the ability to care.

 

* * *

Away from the crowd, he managed to care. “Arthur,” he started, then stopped, not knowing how to say it without sounding as if he didn't want it. But, well, they'd always managed before. “You haven't said anything about a wedding. Not since you first brought it up. Didn't you say you had somewhere you had to go?”

“I contacted the druids,” Arthur said, as if it was completely normal. Merlin froze as they moved to enter Arthur's room, Gwen down the hall being tended to by other servants. “They should be here in a couple of weeks.”

Merlin spluttered. “You're bringing druids here? So soon?”

Arthur twisted his head to look down his nose at Merlin. “Dipping the peoples' toes into this new reform isn't going to help anyone! It's best to do it quickly as possible, with no time for people to cling to a certain issue as if it's the end times. So yes, the druids are coming here. The new laws are being put into place immediately. Camelot's gates are going to open to sorcerers tomorrow. Magic will be used on farms and in the city in the upcoming weeks. If we delay any of this, those who fear magic will put up walls to every extent they can. We cannot allow it.”

Merlin opened his mouth. Closed it. “All right, then.”

Arthur had put that much thought into this? He was serious, wasn't he? He was going to bring magic back to Camelot. Merlin's heart raced. Despite himself, he found his entire body thrilling to the very idea. It felt like a deception. A turning away from Arthur. As if, in wanting magic to return to Camelot, he had just been using Arthur. It left him floundering on how to respond. So he said and did nothing. It left Arthur staring at him with a gaping jaw and narrowed eyes. Somehow, the man still managed to look regal. “Really? Usually, I can't pay you to keep your mouth shut.”

“You pay me, sire?” he asked, finally on familiar ground. “I'm sorry; it was such a small amount, I hardly noticed it at all.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, but his shoulders relaxed. “You could always get nothing, then.”

“Oh, far be it from me to turn down your graciousness. Especially since it's so rare.”

Arthur reached out for Merlin but he ducked away, years of practice already under his belt. He laughed until Arthur finally caught him, and then his mouth was busy doing other things.

 

* * *

Time sped along, faster than perhaps Merlin would have wanted it. The laws came into effect. The people reacted about the same as Arthur predicted; while they'd all argued for sorcerers' rights in theory, in practice, it brought out the fear mongering in droves. They clamored upon the steps of the castle, screamed at the sorcerers as they went to work. Merlin found himself situating each mage in the castle just to keep them away from the worst of the mobs. Which only made the anger and fear grow, as the citizens feared for their king's safety as more and more sorcerers piled in through Camelot's gates.

Arthur was the one who handled it all with aplomb. While Merlin tensed further and further, waking with his body sore as he found he'd remained stiff throughout the entire night, Arthur sent those with magic of the earth to help the crops of the farmers' fields. He sent the healers, even those who had come carefully and quietly out from the shadows, to help Gaius and treat the sick and injured in the city. He sent sorcerers out with the guards to patrol the streets at night. Every sorcerer or group of sorcerers had knights for escort. “Not protect others,” Arthur had told them when he'd been giving them these jobs, “but to protect you, as citizens of Camelot.”

Those who wanted non-magical jobs were granted them, with the request that they tell any of the knights the moment anything happened. (Two had already done so, and Arthur had listened to the cases in court. Both times, the sorcerer was deemed innocent, the aggressor seen to be the non-sorcerer. Both times, Arthur had asked why the aggressor had attacked those they'd fought to have enter the country over a few short weeks ago. Both times, neither man had answered.)

A little over a week, and the druids Arthur had spoken of arrived. They bowed to Merlin first, then Arthur. But though it would have been considered a great breach for most to do so, Arthur didn't say a word to them in reprimand. Instead he stood and walked down to them to stand as equals. Merlin hurried to do the same, nearly tripping over his stupid cape. He knew Arthur needed to give this show of trust. It didn't mean Merlin had to extend it, as well.

“Emrys,” one of the druids said, stepping forward to bow once more to Merlin. His back prickled at the name. Arthur's gaze turned to him. “King of prophecy.” The druid bowed to Arthur, again, as well. “We have come at your summons.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you for coming. Merlin – Emrys.” The word didn't slide easily through Arthur's lips, but it slid, nonetheless. And when Arthur looked at him, there was nothing there but a lifted brow to show for it. “He's expressed concerns over his lack of formal training in magic. We were hoping you would be willing to help him.”

The druid looked at him. Beneath the dark green hood, the man's face showed wrinkles, some so deep that the man had lived near Gaius' age. He held no stooped back, courtesy mostly of leaning over patients and pots and experiments all his life. This man had stood straining up, his back straight as an arrow, though his neck appeared to have a crick in it. His hood covered most of his face, but even as Merlin thought that, the man reached up with gnarled hands and pulled it down. Merlin had expected to see glassy eyes, perhaps completely vacant in blindness like some lost oracle. Instead he found dark gray eyes, absolutely piercing in their intensity, the old man's gaze steadfast as he lowered his hood to his shoulders. “You have lived all your life like this,” the man said. “With, and without. We would be honored to teach you of your heritage.”

When the man bowed for a third time, his followers did the same.

 

* * *

Merlin saw less and less of Arthur.

They got pulled in different directions. It was only inevitable. Merlin's mornings got filled with practice meetings with the druid leader, a man named Jereb who first ran Merlin through what he knew and then ran him through a laundry list of simple spells that Merlin, every morning, showed he could do without saying the words the man had to utter.

Arthur, on the other hand, was busy every morning with the fallout from the return of magic to the kingdom, buried so deep Gwen stepped up to help him where Merlin could not. From what Arthur told Merlin at night, it was actually working; the people seemed to be calming down. Merlin wondered if it wasn't actually because Gwen and Arthur were both non-magical, and thus couldn't be biased more toward the side of the sorcerers. Perhaps Merlin's existence in the room hadn't been for the best.

The best news was that the men who had gone to Reya's place came back without issue, the village safe once more, though they returned also with news of a man traveling toward the city. From the reports the villagers sent, he was likely not coming with the best interests of Camelot or its king at heart. Since the man had left when Arthur's knights had arrived, however, the most they could do was wait to learn more.

In any case, they would usually try to meet up for lunch, though more often than not, one or both of them couldn't make it. When Arthur wasn't busy going over the laws and provisions with his council, he was out practicing with his men or speaking with the druids for more information on their own customs and laws. Merlin found his time eaten up more and more by the sorcerers coming in, either to endure their bowed heads and reverent speeches or to help them with their own problems, anything from accusations against them to fears and concerns to simple problems of where to live or how to keep their children from being bullied. Merlin also found himself accepting so many gifts from these sorcerers Gaius ended up coming and absconding with them all, telling the people to please withhold their gifts until Gaius could find a place to store them properly.

But when the rooms had finally emptied one night, Gaius had leaned down and said, “do not touch any more until I give the word. Who knows what enchantments these items may contain. Not all people want to welcome these changes with open arms.”

Merlin stared at the items, wondering if he'd already been cursed or bespelled. He interrupted Jereb the moment he entered the practice room come the morning. “I need to know if someone's been cursed. Is it possible to test? To check?”

The old man had barely managed to open his mouth to greet Merlin, but he simply closed it and nodded, waving an arm to indicate the small table and chairs awaiting them. Two other druids, there to handle anything if it caught fire or exploded, Merlin presumed, moved away slightly as they sat. Leaving them the illusion of privacy, as always.

“Come,” Jereb said, and Merlin had little choice but to comply. Jereb sat, as well, in that way he seemed to always sit, back ramrod straight, butt only slightly on the seat. The man folded his wrinkled fingers and looked Merlin in the eye. “There are many curses, enchantments, and ensorcelling arts, Emrys. Is there anything you fear precisely?”

Merlin shook his head. “In the couple of years since I became Arthur's servant, I found myself dealing with a little bit of everything,” he said. “Usually, I'm able to thwart whatever's happening. But I've never been able to stop it before it becomes serious. Sometimes life-threatening.”

Jereb nodded. “Prevention is best, it is true. But this is what we've come to teach you.”

Merlin tilted his head. “You came to teach me how to detect curses?”

The old man chuckled. He had a habit of doing so whenever Merlin showed befuddlement. “Yes. And no.” At the nearly lost look Merlin gave him, the old man finally broke down. As usual, his 'breaking down' meant standing up again. The man didn't know when to give his back a break. “You are the earth. Emrys. You are the sky. The land, the sea, the stars, all live within you, and you within them. You are a part of nature, as natural as a seed sprouting.”

He cleared his throat. This was not the first time Jereb had said this. It was also not the first time he didn't know what to do with the information. “So?”

Another chuckle. “The seed knows where the sun goes, Emrys. It tracks the light's path across the sky. The lightning knows its path before it strikes. The ground warns the world before it breaks. You are nature, the light and the dark, the sun and the moon. You know when the tides move, when the floods come. When the heat turns to flame. We are here to teach you not something as simple as spells, but something as difficult as your being, and what it means for you to be.”

Merlin leaned his elbows on the table and put his fingers to his temples. “What are you talking about?”

“Emrys. You are magic. And magic is you, and it is the earth. There is no magic that you, as its beacon, cannot spot.”

Merlin stilled.

“When you were born, you were born of man and woman. You possess a human soul. You were raised by a human woman, and gained human loves and goals. But when you were in your mother's womb, the earth wrapped itself around you. It gave its greens to you. The air whispered through your home, bringing soft scents and light sighs. When you were born, the sun shone down upon you. Though you grew up in a small village in a dangerous time, your people, so long as you were there, suffered no undue loss. The world created you as much as your parents. Curses, enchantments, spells. Even mystical creatures. You have always likely been peripherally aware of them. I am certain that, since meeting your other half, the feeling has only grown stronger. Likely you have sensed when something has gone wrong, when something is off, while those around you have not.”

Something shivered down his spine. Because yes, more often than not, he'd seen or heard or... _felt_ things that had shown him something was off, and over and over and over again, Gaius and Arthur and Gwen would all shrug off his concerns as if they were nothing. Every single time. It felt sometimes like the world was against him; no matter how many times his worries were proven valid, everyone seemed to doubt him when he had a new problem.

He hadn't thought it had anything to do with who he was. If anything, he'd thought it was just because he was closer to Arthur, always watching him. And others just didn't have that honed vision, as if everything else in the world came second. The idea that it was due to his own abilities, to his magic, left him lost. “So what can I do?” he asked.

Jereb grinned. It made the wrinkles around his lips nearly sink into his face. “You can learn to control it.”

Control it? He sucked in a deep breath and stood. The idea of catching these things before they could ever harm Arthur... “What do I have to do?”

“Here. I will show you.” Jereb reached out his hand. Merlin took it.

* * *

The time he and Arthur ever really got to see each other was during the planning for the wedding. They met in the ballroom, the entire place being decorated in such grandeur Merlin feared the money being spent. It was something so deeply beyond anything he could imagine that it left him permanently overwhelmed. Gwen had taken to coming to these meetings, as well, oftentimes acting as buffer between Merlin and the horde of caterers, tailors, attendants, and planners. It gave him brief periods in which he could converse with Arthur. He dodged a woman asking about a floral arrangement and two pages struggling with the seating list for knights and nobles and went up to Arthur's side.

Part of Merlin had expected to see Arthur tired, run ragged by the new laws and the hectic schedule they'd been thrust into. Instead, the man thrived. There was a rosy shine on his cheeks as he spoke in low tones with one of the planners, pointing to one of the cloths in their hands and twisting his wrist as he spoke, likely expounding on some idea. He wore his crown still from the judgments he'd made that morning. It glinted the sunlight into a near-white shine, made the light echo like water on his hair, turning it into spun gold. Arthur caught sight as of him as he came forward, and a bright smile flashed across those cheeks, dimpling them. Merlin couldn't help but smile back.

Merlin came to stand before his fiance, his mind nearly tripping over the word. He reached out to touch Arthur's arm, not caring that the move was a bit girly. Just being this close to Arthur made the unsteady beat of aimless concern just wash away. “How are you?” he asked.

“Fine, as always, Merlin,” Arthur said with a smile. “No matter how many times you ask. I'm perfectly safe here in the castle. And if I'm not, I highly doubt you wouldn't have heard about it.”

Merlin still gave Arthur a cursory check before moving on. “How is it going?”

Merlin's tone left no doubt as to what _it_ was. Arthur sighed. “Another squabble. Not as bad as the others, however; it didn't come to blows. And it seemed to be about who was getting better magic done to their land? I suppose it's a new development to this entire venture.”

“It's about a payment system, isn't it?” Merlin said. “Or at least, it probably should be. The better the sorcerer, the more expensive their services. For now, the sorcerers are all working on your dime. Shouldn't anything they do to assist the farmers simply be a bonus?”

Arthur sighed. The servant he'd been speaking with bowed low and left. “In a perfect world, maybe. In ours, it's considered favoritism.”

Merlin snorted. “As if you knew the strengths of each individual sorcerer when they arrived.”

It made Arthur smile. He reached up and played with Merlin's hair. “I told the farmers I would see to some sort of testing, to find out which sorcerer is better acclimated to what. Though I have no idea how. As I said.” Arthur dropped his hand. “It's just something else to take care of. How was your training today?”

Arthur led them both away from the gaggle of women being bandied about by Gwen, each of them carrying laces and flowers Merlin couldn't even hope to name, and moved toward the tailors as they held up Merlin's and Arthur's outfits to wear. Merlin had been ready to protest, eying the large expanse of white one of the men held, but stopped when he saw the bright gold and red around it. The other outfit, he found after a moment, was the exact same.

He turned to Arthur with wide eyes. Arthur just lifted a brow. “I see speech has failed you yet again, Merlin.” At Merlin's clueless blinking, Arthur sighed. “Training?”

A shocked bubble of sound burst from his throat. “Oh! Right!” Arthur rolled his eyes.”I've... heard before,” Merlin said, then looked around a bit. Arthur's interest, which had been partly taken up with everything else around them, zeroed in on him completely. “That I'm magic. That it's as much a part of me as my skin. But I never really understood what it might mean.”

“It means you're powerful. The most powerful sorcerer ever born.” Arthur said it so simply, so easily, one would never have guessed how close that very fact had come from tearing them apart. Arthur looked down at Merlin. “I guess that means more than you performing spells with your mind?”

Merlin chuckled. “I think so, yeah.”

“Is it...” Arthur looked away, then back toward him. In the sparkling light from the high windows in the ballroom, Merlin easily caught the man's blush. “Is it dangerous? Will you be all right?”

“Why, Arthur,” Merlin said, barely able to hold back his chortle, “are you worried? About me? Even though I've been in the castle? You know, if there had been any trouble–”

“ _Mer_ lin!” Arthur reached out for him, and for a second, Merlin dared dodge the hand, a grin slipping easily into place. But he felt something behind him, the presence of someone, and he dodged, trying to keep away from any of the tailors and their pins and needles. Arthur grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. He nearly bounced off of Arthur's chest.

“Your Highness!”

Perhaps it was for the best that Lancelot called into the room just before they could make a bigger spectacle of themselves. They were acting like foolish newlyweds, after all. But Merlin felt just a trace of annoyance that their short time together that day had already been interrupted. From the look on Arthur's face, Merlin wasn't the only one. Still, Arthur turned to Lancelot and raised his hand. “What is it?”

Lancelot's stood straight at attention, the very picture of a knight. “My apologies for interrupting, sires, but we caught a man sneaking into the castle. He fits the description of the man the villagers spoke of. We have him awaiting judgment in the throne room.”

Arthur's brow rose. “'Caught sneaking in' how?”

Lancelot gestured toward the door, and with another lift of his brow, Arthur allowed himself to be ushered forward. Merlin quickly followed after, ignoring the tailor's quiet huff behind him.

“The man wasn't exactly being subtle,” Lancelot said, his voice soft as they walked down the castle walls. “He left his horse in the courtyard and ran up the steps, shouting a demand for a match. Since he may have been responsible for the villages' troubles, however, I was disinclined to give him the benefit of the doubt. Especially as he took to attacking two of our guards while demanding said match.”

Merlin's jaw dropped. “Did he have magic?” he asked, keeping astride Arthur easily from so much practice. The question garnered more attention from Arthur than it might have before the king had learned of Merlin's own. He turned to Lancelot, as well, clearly awaiting the man's answer.

“None that I've seen,” Lancelot said, “but I won't discount it.”

Gwen hurried up behind them, huffing a bit at having to nearly run in the dress she'd been given. She had to pick it up to keep up with them. “What's happening?” she asked. Merlin slowed down a bit for her, and after a few more steps, so did Arthur, looking a bit chagrined.

“A man caused trouble at the gates,” Merlin told her. “He wanted a match with Arthur, but wasn't inclined to ask honorably.”

She made a humming sound in her throat, then straightened out and faced forward with her chin up. They approached the throne room. Merlin, bumbling as usual, nearly tripped into Arthur as he and Lancelot stopped. Arthur grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and pulled him upright. “Open the door, Lancelot.”

With a nod, the knight did as bade. Merlin barely managed to get his feet under control before the throne room came into view, the thrones even more enormous as Merlin realized he would be expected to join Arthur in judging the man who'd come after him. The revelation nearly rooted him to the spot. It was the fact that Arthur was already stepping forward, and that the man could have magic, that got Merlin moving again. His gaze swept out over the room; the place was primarily empty, despite how noisy the man's entrance to the castle must have been; Merlin was amazed they hadn't heard it, even over the insane bustle of the ballroom. But then he realized why; the man kneeling between Percival and Kay seemed more like a teenager as he shivered with rage, not any sort of danger. Merlin knew better than to judge by looks; he'd been fool enough to do that his first year at the castle, and he wouldn't be making the same mistake again.

He barely had time to think it, however, before Gwen gasped from behind him. “Elyan?”

The young man's head whipped away from Arthur at the sound of Gwen's voice. His eyes widened. When before he'd been content to sit and simmer, suddenly now he was on his feet, nearly throwing himself at Arthur. Merlin stepped slightly beside Arthur, one foot behind him, automatically preparing to shield the man while keeping out of sight. His eyes flashed. “You! You heretic of a king! I won't let you use my sister as some common whore!”

The word made Merlin flinch. _Whore_. Then, a split second later, _sister_. He dared turn his gaze to Gwen. Her cheeks were aflame, even as she scowled. “Elyan! Stop! It's nothing like that!”

Arthur held up his hand. “I take it this is some foolish attempt at reclaiming your sister's supposedly lost honor?”

The boy's lips pulled back. “I will make you pay for what you've done. Making her the joke of the entire kingdom. I demand a duel!”

Merlin wasn't certain how to check for any sort of magic in someone, yet still he tried. He reached into the earth the way Jereb taught him, his body seeming to sink into the stone, blocked by the thick walls of man. He took a deep breath and tried to spread his awareness through the room. It felt cold, like an icy cave. His magic seemed to be bumping into things like one might bump one's toe into a piece of furniture. Everything felt too thick and choking. Yet he found a small source of light – he focused out to see Gaius standing on the edge of the room, his gaze worriedly assessing Merlin, Arthur, and the young Elyan all at once. Merlin spread further, his teeth gritting, and thought he felt more, brighter flashes of magic further away. The druids?

He gasped in a breath and shuddered. Arthur turned mid-sentence – he'd been saying something? – and looked at Merlin. “Are you all right?”

Merlin snapped his mouth closed and nodded tightly, still struggling to suck in breath. His body felt wrung out, as if he'd been exercising hard. “I'm fine. I don't... I'm no expert, but I don't sense any magic in him.”

Arthur raised a brow, this one saying he would be discussing this further with Merlin that night, but he turned back to Elyan with a little less tension in the line of his shoulders. “There is no need for a duel, if you could find it in yourself to remain calm for half a minute.”

Merlin wasn't positive this was the best time for Arthur to be using his snooty voice.

Elyan opened his mouth to speak. It closed the moment Gwen stepped forward, hands on her hips. “How could you do this, Elyan? Attacking Camelot? Insulting its king? Why couldn't you just come speak with me? Would that have been so hard?”

Elyan just stared at her.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “Perhaps we should speak of this somewhere with more privacy.”

Gwen waved her hands. “That's... a wise decision, Your Highness,” she said, glaring at Elyan when he dared open his mouth again. Merlin covered his mouth to hide his grin. This was going to be a much better hour than he'd originally thought.

* * *

Elyan rubbed his hand over the top of his head. The poor man sat on the floor beneath the undulating waves of Gwen's displeasure. “So... you're not...”

“A concubine? No, I'm not, and thank you for shouting that out in the middle of the throne room for the entire kingdom to hear,” Gwen said, still fuming after a full half hour of ripping into her shockingly older brother. Merlin sat furthest away from the two, but only by about two feet. Arthur sat in the chair next to him. They had been in the private dining room the entire time, forced to listen to Gwen's tirade simply to ensure she wasn't kidnapped or something, which, at least for the first five minutes, they weren't unsure Elyan wouldn't try. Now, of course, he looked simply embarrassed to be alive. Pretty much how Merlin felt.

“I'm sorry,” Elyan said, and for the first time in a long time, Merlin tried to intervene.

“He was trying to protect you, Gwen.” Gwen shot him a warning glare, but he had little self-preservation instincts, anyway. “He thought Arthur was doing wrong by you. If he did, likely others in the country do, as well. Not only did he try to protect his little sister, risking his life and taking on an entire army to do so, he also brought up a point we'll have to address.”

Merlin looked to Arthur for support. Surprisingly, the king was already nodding. “He's right. It was foolish, but brave.” Arthur nodded to Elyan, even as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I'm glad to see you have family that would be willing to go to such lengths to protect you. As for the idea of you being used in such a way... we'll have to nip that in the bud, so it's best to learn of it sooner rather than later.”

“I love how the two of you are attempting to spin this in a good light,” Gwen said, but she finally relaxed her stance into something a bit less aggressive. Her hands, at least, fell from her hips to her sides. “But the truth remains that he picked a fight with Arthur, with this kingdom, simply because he couldn't be bothered to ask me himself.”

“I thought you were being held against your will! That you couldn't go against your king's wishes!” Elyan leaned forward, tucking his feet beneath himself to present a smaller target to his sister as he did. This was a man who had learned how to survive a woman's wrath. “How was I to know you had some strange partnership going on?”

“He has a point,” Merlin said, and received glares from both Gwen and Arthur for his trouble. He did not have Elyan's preservation instincts.

“We'll take care of the rumor,” Arthur said. “Gwen, what happens to your brother is up to you.”

“Arthur, he was just trying to protect his sister.” Another glare. “Why not have him stay? He can see what's happening with Gwen with his own eyes.”

Arthur sighed. “And if he plans to attack us?”

“He'd better not,” Gwen cut in, her glare turning full-force on her brother again.

Merlin shrugged. “We've tried explaining the situation to him – well, Gwen has. He isn't attacking us now. And he's Gwen's family. Shouldn't we give him a chance?”

Merlin looked at Elyan. He didn't see any intent to harm Arthur in him, at least now that he'd been corrected by his sister. The poor man looked more like he wanted to run away. But knowing the man's motivations made Merlin trust him much more. Anyone wanting to protect Gwen was good in his book. Besides, he thought ruefully, since he had a strong suspicion as to who would eventually be taking Gwen's hand, it would be best for the man to get used to the idea of her new position before landing the idea of her having a beau on the poor man's already addled mind.

“Merlin.” Arthur sighed.

Gwen frowned. “You said the choice was up to me?” she asked. Arthur nodded. “All right. He gets a week of momentary amnesty, a chance to prove himself loyal to me and my kingdom.” She bit her lip, then rolled her shoulders and continued. “I want him to see I do this of my own will, and what it means for us.”

She stepped forward and reached out for her brother. He took it, though he didn't use her strength to stand, instead simply keeping his hand on hers. He looked at Arthur, a hard glint forming in his eyes before he looked to Merlin. “You're a commoner, too?”

Merlin nodded. “I am. Was,” he said at Arthur's scowl. “Gwen and I worked together. We're friends.”

Elyan sniffed, but he quailed again beneath Gwen's angry look. “Fine,” he grumbled. Actually grumbled. “I'll watch, then.”

“Good choice,” Gwen said.

 

* * *

Not like there was a lot of time for Elyan to watch before the wedding. Merlin and Arthur had to return to the ballroom, though this time, instead of accompanying them, Gwen took her brother on what she called a tour of the castle. Merlin had a deep feeling she was warning him off again where no one else could hear. Lancelot went with them – unsurprisingly – while Percival and Kay came to stand watch over them. The tailors worked as quickly as they could to fit their outfits better to them; Arthur demanded something even more regal and ostentatious than the outfits they'd worn to speak with the townspeople just a few days ago. In the meantime, Merlin at least had the opportunity to speak with Arthur about what Jereb had been teaching him. He could even do so in front ofo the tailors, who didn't so much as flinch at the news of Merlin training his magic.

“So he's teaching you to use what he says you already have? Why didn't you know you had it?”

“He says I'm separating myself. I think of myself as just a human, when I'm... more.” Merlin shivered, still uncomfortable with the idea of it. From the hints Jereb had given him, he also feared he might live as long as the Earth itself. If his life really was tied to it, did that mean he would live as long as Albion? Longer than Arthur?

Forever?

“What does that mean?” Arthur asked, his brow wrinkling in that age-old look of concern. The sign of the man taking on some sort of unimaginable weight.

“It means I limit myself to my body, when my power comes from the earth itself. I'm linked to it, I think.” He shrugged. “I felt the instant I entered Camelot, you know. I could feel the moment magic fled its grasses, leaving the land to fend for itself. I remember the air feeling drier, more arid and claustrophobic. I... your father felt the same. There was no room for magic in his heart.”

Arthur turned his head away, messing up the tailor's efforts to alter the collar around his neck. “And me?” he asked.

“I told you about the magic I found on Valiant's shield, remember? There was something different in you. You weren't closed off to magic entirely, though the air around you was still... stifling.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Apparently I can naturally sense magic; it's how I've always caught the enchantments and spells hanging over the castle and its people, even when Gaius didn't believe me. Jereb says I can control it. He started showing me how.”

“Is that how you knew there was no magic in Elyan?”

He shrugged. His tailor sighed, and he apologized. “I don't know for sure. You would have to ask Jereb, I think. It's not something I've mastered yet.”

Arthur hummed, not responding any more to Merlin's words. The conversation slowly grew to encompass the ballroom and the upcoming wedding. Merlin's mother entered the room, waving silently to him before making her way over to the flower arrangements. Arthur's gaze tracked her. “Thank you for inviting her,” Merlin said. Arthur grunted. “It means a lot to me, and to her. And, I think, to you?”

Arthur sniffed. “Iviting my husband's family is just due course.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Of course. But you know, as fiances, she's technically _your_ mother now, too.” Arthur blushed. Merlin caught it. He grinned. “We could go talk to her after this?”

Arthur didn't say anything. Which meant he wanted to do exactly that. Merlin grinned.

Merlin was giddy. The problem of the approaching enemy had been nothing more than an overprotective brother. The worst rumors on the upcoming marriage were that Arthur was taking on a concubine to keep his lineage moving forward. How wonderful was that? No one was spreading horrible rumors about the evil sorcerer manipulating Arthur anymore! Those had all but disappeared as the mages came into the kingdom, bringing with them not just their magic but healthier crops, cures for ailments, and cleaner water. Armor and weapons were receiving small shielding enchantments to help the knights in battle. Before Arthur had become king, Camelot had been on the brink of collapse. In such a short amount of time, Arthur had turned Camelot around. It grew in strength every day. Its people, frightened though many were at the changes, weren't rioting in the streets or demanding magic be outlawed again. They were fumbling forward, but most seemed to be embracing it all. And with Jereb and the other druids' help, the issues of unfairness in magical aid could be cut down, as well.

Things were really looking up, and just in time for their wedding. How could he not be thrilled with this? And he knew it was a mistake to think things were going to continue going well, but he couldn't help it. Arthur had managed the impossible. He'd brought magic back to Camelot.

With a grin fit to tremble into tears, he reached out and grasped Arthur's hand. Arthur jolted a bit, then looked at Merlin. The moment their eyes met, Arthur echoed Merlin's dopey grin, even as he rolled his eyes. “You are such a girl, _Mer_ lin.”

He couldn't help it. He laughed. “Is it really girly to be this happy?”

Arthur's fingers wrapped tight around his. “Perhaps,” he murmured. But he would not let go.

“Well, then. I'll gladly be a girl.”

Arthur smirked. “Good. Then you can wear the white.”

Merlin looked down at their outfits. “We're both wearing white.” Indeed, they were, though it was rimmed in gold and plum, the capes likely the usual Pendragon red. From what he could see, they would have gold trim all over the sleeves and around the belt. He tried not to think too hard about it. About the fact that these two outfits were more expensive than literally everything he'd ever owned. Including his and his mother's home back in Ealdor. “Guess that makes both of us girls.”

Arthur used the hand he still hand around Merlin's as leverage to push him off his pedestal. He toppled to the ground in a heap, the tailors groaning at the extra work. Arthur chuckled.

Merlin used his magic to push Arthur. The shocked, flustered look on his king's face made Merlin burst into laughter.

“ _Mer_ lin!”

 

* * *

They barely had time before the evening meal to speak with Hunith, so they chose to simply sit with her in the private dining room and speak there. Hunith sat across from Merlin, to Arthur's left, with a permanent blush staining her cheeks. It likely didn't help that she'd joined in the revelry back when Merlin pushed Arthur off his place in front of the tailors, thus making it impossible for Arthur to really get angry at Merlin and making the entire spectacle likely even more humiliating for the poor king. No amount of apologies had gotten Arthur to stop his petulant glaring.

Hunith stared at the vast array of food being placed in front of them with wide eyes. Merlin could tell it was on the tip of her tongue to say this feast wasn't appropriate for just her. He could also tell the instant she realized it was, from this moment into the future; she looked up to meet his gaze, hers more wondering than even when she'd stood by them during the announcement of their impending wedding. Somehow, the abundance of food was what really clued her in to what her life was about to become. “Hunith,” Arthur said, starting the conversation, “you know you have a place ready for you here in the castle, if you wish it.”

Her jaw dropped. Merlin's jaw dropped. “Arthur,” Merlin breathed, “when in the world have you found time for that?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “It's called delegation, Merlin. Please tell me you'll be able to learn to do even that much.”

The idea boggled, even though Merlin knew Arthur was right. He had too much on his plate to worry about menial things like cleaning Arthur's room anymore. It was why George was now in charge. It made sense that other jobs would have to be given to others, as well. Even magical ones?

He looked at Arthur. He would never trust anyone else with the job of protecting him.

“If it wouldn't be an imposition,” Hunith said, breaking Merlin from his thoughts, “I would love to stay, at least for a time.” She held up her hand when Arthur opened her mouth, then gasped and quickly lowered it. “Sorry. I'm sorry. But no, I don't want to stay. Not permanently, at least. The two of you will be newly married. You won't be wanting a parental figure around.”

Merlin flushed to the tips of his ears. Arthur wasn't far behind.

She smiled. “I'll stay for the wedding, of course. And I would love to return, if you're willing.”

“The castle will always be open to you, Hunith. You must know that.”

She smiled at Arthur's words. Merlin couldn't stop blushing long enough to do the same. “Thank you. I'm honored to have you as my son.”

Arthur looked down. Something happened to his face, but Arthur hid it from view. Merlin reached out and grabbed his fiance's knee. He could guess how Arthur was feeling, to know Hunith welcomed him so openly. To know he had a mother, in law as well as spirit. Merlin squeezed tight. Arthur managed to nod, though he couldn't quite contain the sniffle. Hunith, wise as ever, chose to pretend she didn't hear it. “I'm grateful to you,” Arthur said, finally lifting his head up. His eyes and nose were slightly red, but otherwise, he'd managed to school his features. “For having and raising Merlin, and for sending him to me.”

Hunith beamed. She reached out, daring to touch the king's shoulder. “I couldn't have asked for someone better suited for my son. He loves you, and he's happy. It's all a mother truly wants.” She hesitated for a moment before sliding her hand down to grip Arthur's own. “I'm certain your mother feels the same.”

Arthur's throat clicked as he willed it to work. “Thank you,” he said, and though he managed to keep the tears in his eyes from falling, he couldn't keep the sound of them from his voice.

Merlin scooted his chair closer and leaned more heavily on Arthur's knee. The happiness inside him fit near to bursting. He knew things couldn't always remain as perfect as this, but he did hope they never stopped being as beautiful.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm struggling to finish this, I may or may not write another chapter. If I do, it will likely be little more than the wedding itself, since I really want to be able to say this piece is done. I know there are a few things left open-ended, and for that I apologize. But I figure this is better than leaving it completely unfinished, as it is now. Please let me know if there's anything in particular you want me to add to the final chapter, and I will. Thank you all so much for waiting so patiently for this; I know it's been a terribly long time. I really do hate writing endings for stories that have become such an integral part of me. That's the only excuse I have as to why this is so abrupt and poorly written. I'm terribly sorry.


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end, they always come together.

Arthur had always had another reason for calling the druids to the castle.

Granted, from everything Merlin told him at night, sometimes so excited he tripped over his own tongue, he was learning a lot. Even he could see an improvement in the way Merlin used his magic, if only because of how smoothly Merlin's hands moved as he gestured, his eyes sparkling sunlight. Apparently, Jereb even had some sort of trip planned in some nebulous part of Merlin's future, to some Crystal Cave or something, which could help awaken Merlin to even more of the power inherent within him.

For now, however, the crest of summer loomed ahead of them, and with it, their upcoming nuptials. Every time he thought of it, his heart thrilled in his chest, raising a smile from him, leaving him soft and happy in ways he never thought he would be. Even his father's religion, the one he'd brought in to replace the Old Religion, denouncing his wedding as sinful couldn't hamper his spirits. In response, he'd simply reinstated the Old Religion as the reigning religion of the country. Not that he would ever make following the new religion illegal; he simply made it clear that the religious leaders could keep their beliefs away from his castle and his policies.

According to Merlin, many followers of the faith came to him in concern, having been told by their priests that he was trying to round up any believers and exile them. It necessitated yet another speech to his people, in which he not only vocally denounced the lies, but urged his people to never fall for the stories of those who lusted for lost power.

It was not he who attempted to divide his people, he told Camelot. He sought unity. Inclusion. Not assimilation or obeisance. If he'd wanted that, he could have just ordered them to accept magic.

He raged that night in their shared rooms, until finally Merlin just laughed at him and pulled him to bed. And the happiness inside him found no end.

* * *

A thief chose the night before their wedding to make off with an old, enchanted medallion in the deep vaults below his castle. Arthur and his knights went to the room, but it was Merlin to whom Arthur turned. “Can you find out what it was that was taken?”

Merlin looked at the empty chest that had once held the strange fragment of a useless-looking paperweight. “I can try,” he'd said.

Arthur rolled his eyes and ordered his knights out. Only when they were gone did he bend to place a kiss on Merlin's crown. “As much as this concerns me, do not let it get in the way of our festivities. The knights will look for clues in the meantime.”

Of course Merlin didn't look at all convinced. So Arthur backed his fiance onto a dusty wall and forced the insane level of fealty to something more mutually enjoyable. Merlin's clothing was ruined when they left the vault, much to Merlin's complaint and Arthur's satisfaction.

* * *

The day had come.

Many might say it a good omen, how beautiful the weather was. How the sun shone through thin clouds, how the air was crisp with a spring wind despite the nearness of autumn. How the morning met with dew on the grasses and flowers burst into bloom when they should have neared their winter sleep. Many might. But not Arthur. Not anymore. He understood now what would have seemed impossible only a few short months ago: Merlin and the world were tied together. His land and his love were the same. Perhaps that was the reason he cared for Merlin above all else; he couldn't be sure. He'd always believed nothing would trump his love for his people, for his country. To learn his land was Merlin, and Merlin it; to learn Camelot itself blessed their wedding day – it was startling, and surreal, and somehow made perfect sense. Of course the person most precious to him was part and parcel to his kingdom itself.

The castle's church, added on by his father fifteen years ago, stood empty. Its pews and altar gathered dust this day. Arthur had chosen the outdoors for this. The back of the castle had been swept clean, the practice grounds emptied, the grasses fertilized days in advance to keep any lingering smell from loitering on the morning dew. The gates had been opened to the people, though all of the knights in attendance kept their weapons and armor equipped. Merlin, with Lancelot and Gwaine on his side, and Arthur, with Kay and Leon on his, and even Gwen, with her brother and Percival standing watch, would each stay with their knight constituents throughout the binding and the follow-up festival. Merlin's mother sat front and center in the aisles, a knight sitting at her side, his sword upon his lap, prepared to act, if necessary.

Arthur took his place before his kingdom and its people, standing out in his red and gold and white. The cape was longer, fuller, heavier than his usual, one for grandstanding more than mobility. It draped across his shoulders and along the created dais onto the grass, the smell of which stood heady in the morning light. The sky burnt orange and yellow fire across the blue-white sky. His people gathered along the sides of the aisle, guards stationed to protect. The sea of faces looked back and forth between the dais and their king and the castle steps, where Merlin waited to be ushered forward. Gwen stood back and away, a spectator held apart from the rest. She had wanted to sit in the seats at the front of the dais, where his council, nobles, and visiting dignitaries, including a young princess from Nemeth named Mithian and the king and queen from Caerleon, sat. But Gwen was to sit by their thrones, beside them, and for that, she must be treated as more than those around her. Her compromise had been that she be kept apart from the ceremony. That it focus primarily on just himself and Merlin.

The crowd gasped as the orchestra far to the sides of the crowd began to play. Merlin barely poked his head out, the fool, before hiding again. And then, an instant later, he came out.

Arthur had seen the outfit Merlin would wear during the tailoring process, then again during their hectic dress rehearsal. Somehow, however, he'd never quite seen it like this. Perhaps it was the light, the way the sun's beams seemed to shine directly down on the man, illuminating the silver and gold thread spun intricately over the shoulders and chest. Perhaps it was the glow of the castle stone behind him, that lent a deeper shine to the blinding white and blue of Merlin's slacks, off-shooting the color of the man's eyes even from a distance that should have prevented Arthur from seeing them.

Perhaps it was the way those blue eyes caught his, the way Merlin went from hunching like an old man to giving that tilted, dopey smile and standing straight, that made the man more beautiful than ever before.

And because his life had become a walking impossibility, when Merlin took a step, the step he left behind pushed flowers up from the ground. He nearly laughed out loud.

The aisle became a column of flowers. Actual flowers, as Merlin walked between Lancelot and Gwaine to take his place opposite Arthur. Gwaine was snickering. Merlin, completely oblivious, as usual, just wore that dopey smile. His people murmured very quietly behind them. Arthur caught a short glimpse of Gwen. The woman stood with a hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking. Tears rolled down her face.

Arthur thought he could feel, could almost _see_ , the golden waves of Merlin's magic wafting about in the summer air. Arthur opened his mouth to order Merlin to get a grip on his magic, only to catch the nearly giddy look on the man's face. It was happening because Merlin was happy. Unbelievably, deliriously happy. And Arthur remembered how many times Merlin had self-effaced__??__, how many times the man had told him to keep their relationship secret, or that it was fine to let him go, or that he understood nothing could come of them. How many times had Merlin expressed doubt over them? Over _Arthur?_ Had Merlin ever seen anything like this happening?

The man had doubted, over and over, until this very moment. He might have even told himself that Arthur was just saying what he had to to his people, probably in order to keep Merlin alive. The man had never believed Arthur would put himself, his kingdom, on the line to marry a male servant. And now that it was happening, beyond Merlin's greatest hopes (though, to be honest, the man hadn't let himself hope nearly hard enough, if this was beyond the realm of his imagination), it was happening.

Arthur wouldn't dream of telling the man to reign that reaction in. Merlin had never looked more beautiful.

Jereb stood between them. He held no book, no cross. All he wore was the simple cloak he'd come in, his hands linked at the moment, the long sleeves covering them. He kept his head dipped in deference, though Arthur could see the man was turned slightly more toward Merlin. Their Emrys. The one who would return magic to the land.

Arthur smiled. “Ready?” he whispered. As rehearsed, Arthur took Merlin's hands in his. The show of unity made the air whirl slightly around them, a small eddy that whipped Arthur's hair. Merlin's fell almost entirely into his face, for an instant, before the wind swooped back around, fixing it. He could feel Merlin's magic even greater than the moment before, as if it wanted to reach out to him. It tingled across his skin, shocked through his fingers. Because of it, he almost missed the trembling.

Merlin grinned full-blast, even as those fingers kept shaking against his. “Ready,” he said. The man nearly bounced on his feet. The shaking was from _excitement_.

Jereb smiled at the two of them. “Emrys and the Once and Future King,” he said, then, “King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot. Sir Merlin of Ealdor.” Merlin glanced away, toward his mother. Arthur caught the woman beaming up at her son, already crying buckets. She nodded to Merlin, and his lover turned back to him, the energy of his magic even more frenetic, if that was possible. “You are together here, today, by your own will and the will of the earth. Destiny itself has placed you by each others' sides. Your own desires, hopes, and strengths, have brought you to this moment.”

Arthur breathed in the scent of his land, his kingdom. The flowers that had blossomed like so much girlishness perfumed the air with a sweet scent. The birds that should have been twittering their morning songs chirped so quietly Arthur could hardly hear them. But when he looked to the nearest tree, he saw a constituent of colors, red and blue and brown and gold, the birds flapping only when they needed to adjust their balance. He looked back down. Even the animals were getting in on this?

“In this union, as every union, we will recognize the voices of those who feel attrition against this couple. You may speak, and your voices will be heard.” Jereb waited for a moment, but of course, no one would dare speak out against the wedding of their king, even if they truly held a grievance against the union. Still, Merlin tensed and passed a quick look over the crowd. Arthur squeezed his hands in reassurance. “Then we now ask the land. Our mother, giver of life, in union with her beloved in the sky and her brother in the sea. If you would speak out against this union, we beg you to guide us now.”

The world burst. The flowers spread from their uniform row out beneath the seats and amongst the people standing back against the castle walls. The air swept up an odd mixture of honeydew and the scent of the sea. The same wind tickled the leaves, brought the sound of a sigh. Jereb touched their hands, positioned them in a cupping position, all four upon each other, and placed a single rose petal upon them. The wind swept around them, warm and cool all at once. Arthur felt a new sensation, one different from the sense of Merlin's magic, yet similar, all the same. It made him think of the color blue.

The single petal multiplied, two, four, until almost at once it burst into full bloom, a single white rose with yellow-tipped petals. Its vine wound its way, thornless, up his and Merlin's hands, to the wrists. It twined around their right arms. The world trembled, rumbled, then stilled with one last sigh. The gasps and screams of the people died. The birds that had bowed the branches of his castle's trees finally sang. The sun had never been brighter.

Merlin was crying, and Arthur feared he was close to doing the same.

Jereb stepped back. “A blessing beyond any we have every seen,” he said, his voice unsurprised, but still hushed. “The world blesses this union. Albion has chosen its kings.”

Merlin hunched his shoulders and grimaced. Every muscle in his body fought against sobbing aloud. The girl.

With his right arm tangled in the rose's vine, Arthur had to use his left hand to reach out and touch the man's sharp cheek. His thumb was immediately soaked. “Merlin.” The man sniffed so loudly it nearly ruined the moment. Arthur bit his lip to keep from laughing. Tears burned at the back of his eyes. “Get a grip. It's a flower.”

Merlin laughed. It sounded wet. “Clotpole.”

“That's still not a word.”

Jereb smiled at the both of them. “Please repeat after me, Your Highness.” Arthur turned to the old man. “In body, we are two. In heart, we are one. In soul, we were never, and shall never, be parted.” Arthur said the words, voice loud and clear. It carried out, the birds lowering their din to the same slight sounds they'd made before the earth had made its own voice known. “On this day, in this moment, I offer you that which will never be given to another. My strength. My sword. My heart. My life. It is you I place above all others. You I love above even my mother Earth. And when the world welcomes me back into its earth, it is your soul I will return to, in every age. As it is now, in this once, so it shall be, in our future.”

Arthur recited it all, the thrill of it echoing through his body to his extremities. The dais seemed almost to be in the way. Suddenly he wanted to feel the earth beneath him, just as he felt the wind in his hair. Merlin shuffled from foot to foot as if echoing his feelings. Their fingers, still latched together beneath the silken feel of the rose, tightened their grips on each other.

Merlin's words were next, altered slightly to match him. Instead of his sword, Merlin promised his magic. But the oddest change was at the end. When Arthur had promised to return to Merlin, Merlin instead recited, “And when the world welcomes you back into its earth, it is your soul I will wait for, in every age. As it is now, in this once, so it shall be always, in our unending future.”

The words rattled in Arthur's mind. They meant more, most likely, than he could interpret. The whole prophecy bit, etched with a little more of that obnoxious destiny drivel. Yet somehow, Arthur had never felt more right. Even without the earth beneath his feet, he felt balanced in a way he couldn't describe. As if he'd always been looking at the world just that fraction of a bit crooked, and now, suddenly, he could see straight. As if the world had been a bit dimmer, and now the colors burst in his vision.

“Do you, then, King Arthur Pendragon, take Sir Merlin, Emrys, as your king consort and chosen mate, your lost half, to act as your soul's beacon, in this life, and all others?”

“I do.”

“And do you, Sir Merlin, Emrys, take King Arthur Pendragon as your king and chosen mate, your lost half, to act as his soul's beacon, in all ages of your eternal life?”

Merlin nodded, face dead serious, even as tear tracks marked his cheeks. “I do.”

The words slammed through Arthur as Jereb completed the ritual. “Then, by Albion's decree and by my life as Her humble servant, I pronounce you both mated and wed. May your union bring happiness to you and all you love, and may the earth bless you always. You may now seal your vows on each other's lips.”

An odd turn of phrase. Arthur decided he liked it just about the time Merlin leaned forward, nearly throwing the both of them on the ground as he leaned on Arthur's arms, and kissed him. Arthur managed one single, startled second before he wrapped his free hand around Merlin's upper arm and kissed back. Despite steadying them both on their feet, Arthur felt the world tilt around him. The earth rumbled again. The world turned hazy with soft, flowing lights – the flowers that had taken over his castle yard had set off their pollen. What should only have been found in deep marshes at night lit the whole yard in broad daylight. Merlin barely managed to pull back, nearly toppling them both all over again. Arthur's breath stilled in his chest. He had to take it back. _This_ was the most stunning Arthur had ever seen Merlin.

And then the floating fuzz of the flowers' pollen stuck in Merlin's black hair, and he laughed. Jereb placed the crown on Merlin's head, sending the fluff into the air like a small cloud. It looked like the glowing embers of a golden fire, bleached the man's hair and skin and eyes.

It looked like Merlin's magic. And it was beautiful.

* * *

Arthur had been afraid the vine around their arms would have to be cut off, but as soon as they stepped down from the dais, it unwound itself from around their arms until only the rose remained. Arthur had jokingly put the flower in Merlin's hair, but after a verbal sparring match and a slight scuffle, it was handily entrusted to Gwen, who wore it in her hair.

Merlin got caught by his mother almost immediately, swept into a hug that left both of them crying like saps. Arthur stayed away the first few moments, then was forced to their sides when Hunith looked up and ushered him over. Unsurprisingly, he'd been brought into the group hug of crying. The only thing that salvaged his pride was how often Hunith, her words bubbling and breaking around her sobs, said she was “so happy Merlin had met him” and how she had “never been prouder, never, not once, of her two sons.”

“I know your mother would be so happy,” she told him after he accepted a private hug from her. She kept her words quiet, private, so that only he could hear, “and so proud of you.”

He might have cried, too. Just a little bit.

Which demanded an immediate answer to the issue of their wedding vows.

Arthur searched out Jereb. He stood with the other druids, looking for all the world like a skulking cult on the edge of the yard. He called a knight to usher them forward, and when they came, they came with deep bows and words of congratulations and gratitude. Arthur held up his hand, silencing them all, and turned to Jereb. The old man smiled slightly at the sight. “You fear the words of promise you spoke.”

He lowered his hand. On instinct, he reached for Merlin and pulled him slightly behind him. “What did you mean by them?”

“Your destinies have already been written,” Jereb said. “It is foretold that you, King Arthur, will die, though now, you will likely have a much longer life than originally anticipated. I doubt the earth would be able to bear to see you two parted before your time.” He smiled, wrinkles pressing through the skin of his face. “Emrys is part of the earth. Like he earth, he cannot die.”

Arthur paled. Their fear was true. “So when I die, he'll... what? Still be this age? Forever?”

That wasn't right. Merlin would lose everyone he loved. He would wander the world forever. Alone.

“Yes,” Jereb said. Arthur turned to Merlin. The man had a carefully empty air about him. Hollow. “But there is hope.”

Arthur stepped forward. “Hope?”

Someone came up to them, saw the looks on their faces, and walked away. Arthur thought it might have been one of his knights. “That's right. The prophecy mentions your reigns. Not once. Not twice. But a dozen times. Your lives will be marked by joyous reunions and bitter departures.” Arthur snarled. “You will come, and you will go, and Emrys will wait to guide you once again. Earth is old, and new, young, and aged. You may see him old when you close your eyes, and young when you open them again.”

The very idea of it all sent sick churning throughout his stomach. What had once been the best day in his life turned dark and sour. “What can I do?” Arthur asked.

“Fear not, young king.” Jereb held up one wrinkled hand. “For on the dawn of your tenth reign, you will see the souls of your loved ones once more. You will return to your destined throne, your mate by your side. You will be called upon to unite Albion once again. And when you succeed, your cycles will end. And the earth's son will be allowed to rest. With you.”

“How long would that take?” Arthur asked.

“That is unknown, Your Highness.” The old man bowed slightly. “You have a gift we others do not. A chance for lifetimes with your partner.”

“But at what cost?” Arthur looked at Merlin, but Merlin simply smiled.

“That kind of destiny – I have no problem fulfilling it.”

“Merlin!” Arthur hissed. “You will live forever! Everyone you know and love–”

“And I will meet them all again,” Merlin said, still smiling. “And I'll meet you again, as well. That's a comfort. I can only assume I live until that day, not because I cannot die, but because my destiny demands I learn more as the decades pass. So that I may help you, when this second time comes.”

Arthur clenched his fists and turned his head away. “I am king,” he said. “I should be the one protecting my people.”

Merlin touched his arm. “You are my king,” he said, turning them away from Jereb, coercing Arthur into looking back at him. His blue eyes shone. “It is my duty, and honor, to protect you.”

Arthur pulled Merlin into an embrace. How had he fallen in love with such an impossible man?

* * *

The knights, of course, were on duty, but Gwaine had already said four times that he was going to get Merlin smashed the next day. As if the man hadn't done his best to do the same just the night before. When Arthur scowled the fourth time, Merlin snitched on his friend, telling Arthur Gwaine had said it five more times when Arthur had been out of earshot. Arthur grinned at the man. “I'll need you to work a shift tonight on the castle courtyard.” Gwaine spluttered some sort of dissent. “We'll need these flowers taken care of before practice tomorrow morning.”

More spluttering. Merlin covered his mouth and laughed. “I like the flowers,” Merlin said.

“You are _such_ a _girl_ , Merlin.” Arthur sighed and pulled his husband – _his husband_ – close. “you can sprout your little flowers somewhere else if you like, but I am not having the whole yard turned into a flowering meadow.”

Merlin looked around them. “It is beautiful, though.”

Merlin was beautiful. It was the foremost thought hanging in his mind. Had been all day. Arthur had never understood the idea that all a person could see was their beloved. Now, nothing had ever made more sense.

The fuzz had been cleared out of his hair by Hunith just before the nobles and council members had swarmed them to wish them congratulations. The ensuing line had held them up from morn to midday, and the sun shone brilliantly above them as they finally made way to the other side of the castle lawn – thankfully, no more flowers burst beneath Merlin's feet – to the tables and chairs the servants had set up hours before dawn. Merlin looked at it all wide-eyed, even though Arthur had told the man what he'd demanded be set up. “I would have had to help you with this if...” Merlin started, then trailed off.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Just who would I have married, Merlin?” Though he could guess. His father would have demanded he marry a princess. If he'd never met Merlin, never fallen for the man, he might have even allowed it. He would have fought it, of course. He believed in marrying for love, just as his parents had done – no matter the horrible consequences that had formed from the union. But perhaps, just maybe, he might have fallen into that pit. And if not, he certainly wouldn't have chosen a manservant as his first option. So he held Merlin's hand – he was fairly certain Merlin couldn't walk a straight line, and the man hadn't so much as touched a single ounce of wine yet – and led the both of them forward.

The bands had moved since the end of the ceremony, and they were now set up on either side of the tables, playing soft music as everyone made their ways to their designated chairs. Arthur and Merlin sat at the head of the high table on the dais farthest back, with Gwen and Hunith seated on their sides. Gwen had already found her seat, and was busy speaking with a nobleman at the head. According to the look on her brother's face, the man was remaining cordial to the country's queen regent.

Merlin still seemed in awe of the proceedings; he'd been practically useless when receiving the accolades from their guests; the man couldn't decide between giddy and mortified. He had, however, been gracious with every person who came to him, and greeted both noble and servant by name. It was something Arthur could not do; he did not know the commoners of Camelot as Merlin did. So while Arthur helped Merlin through the meetings with the visiting royalty of other nations, Merlin helped him through meeting the men and women of his country. It had been something Arthur had never thought to experience.

Now, with the arches of white flowers and tables of delicacies, the man seemed once more overwhelmed. “You did know what you were getting yourself into, didn't you?”

Merlin's gaze was dazed when it turned to him. “What? Oh! Yeah. Yes.” But the man shook his head. “No. Not really. I mean, you wouldn't last a day as a servant. How am I supposed to immediately make a great king?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Only you, _Mer_ lin, would dare insinuate that your king – and husband – would not only be made a servant, but would be a poor one, at that. And I shouldn't hear a thing about being a good servant from you.”

Merlin grinned. “Ah, but my being your servant had an ulterior motive.”

Arthur grinned easily. The thought that the ulterior motive might have been a danger to him or Camelot came and went on the breeze. “And what would that have been?”

They'd played this game before, but still it was fun to hear Merlin whisper, “keeping your alive.”

Even more fun was getting his revenge by dragging Merlin onto the dance floor and watching the man trip over both their feet.

* * *

Merlin shuffled into the room as Arthur took off his shirt for the night. His plans for the evening had required George be out of the room; nothing killed Merlin's mood faster than a servant knowing what they were about to get up to.

He turned at the sound of Merlin's hesitant entry and quirked a brow. Merlin stood feet together, shoulders hunched slightly, hands clasped before him, head down. He sighed. “What did you do?”

Merlin bit his lip. “I have to go.”

For a split second, Arthur's heart raced. His first thought was that Merlin was leaving him, leaving Camelot. Forever. Then disbelief, followed by a cold, steely determination. Merlin would be leaving over his dead body. “Why?”

Merlin wrung his hands together. What the hell had the man done to think he needed to leave? “Kilgharrah and I spoke. About the thief that was here last night.”

Arthur raised his head. Kilgharrah the dragon? “Why?” he asked again.

Merlin shifted on his feet. Sighed. “Because the vault that thing is for probably houses a dragon's egg.”

The words floated over Arthur's head. Teasing him. “What does that have to do with you leaving?”

Merlin wrung his hands some more, but he looked at Arthur with some sort of plea. As if he needed Arthur to understand. But how could Arthur understand Merlin leaving? “I'm the Dragonlord, Arthur. The last of my kind. It's my duty to protect the dragons. Even if there's only one – two, now – left.”

“Yes,” Arthur said slowly. “So?”

Merlin waved his hands, finally done wringing them. “So there's a dragon's egg out there! Possibly the very last dragon!”

Arthur nodded slowly. “Yes. So we saddle up and head out. Why exactly must you leave for this?” Merlin's jaw flapped for a second. The very moment it did, the meaning of Merlin's words kicked in. Arthur stormed up to the man and grabbed the back of his head. “I know we didn't have the new religion's leaders officiate our wedding, _Mer_ lin, but I'm fairly certain when I vowed to you my strength and sword, it implied also that your troubles are my own.”

Merlin actually teared up. Arthur couldn't believe he'd fallen in love with the most girly man he had ever met. He leaned Merlin's head back and kissed him until the idiot's balance betrayed him and he fell against Arthur's chest. Then he smirked. “Don't fret, dear maiden. I'll protect you from the rogue while you go rescue your lost child.”

Merlin smacked his chest and glared at him. Arthur laughed. “Get a servant to fetch the knights. We'll head out in half an hour.”

For once, Merlin did as told without questioning. Arthur moved to grab his sword.

And just like that, another adventure began. Arthur's heart soared in his chest. An autumn wind rocked the windows, heavy after being held off for so long. The leaves whispered secrets as they scattered on the breeze. With them, flowing on the wind as if leading them, flew the petals from the courtyard flowers. Their trail led beyond Camelot, out toward the forests. Out toward their new life together.

He strapped his sword to his waist and spun on his heel.

 

* * *

 

* * *

 

Merlin had waited almost three hundred years this time. Three hundred years of watching the world progress, faster than he'd ever seen it progress before. When once there were only horses and buggies, now there were automobiles traveling faster than twice a horse's speed – at a gallop. Medicine, science, art, all had transformed at least a half dozen times in only two-hundred and eighty years. And still he sat on the outstretches of that ever-widening civilization, the Isle of Avalon just beyond the morning fog. He walked, his disguise stable even after so many years of pretending to age. He lived a simple life, simpler even than most in the tiny village below where Camelot, in her full glory, had once stood. Before she and the rest of the kingdom had gone with the Sidhe, held encapsulated in the same place they held Arthur. Waiting. Restoring his strength in order to come back.

And then, as he carried his groceries back down the road to his home, he heard it. The soft, undulating cry of Albion, the soft tremble beneath his feet. The awakening of a magic so lost to the world few others could even sense it anymore. He looked up, out across the sea to the Isle. Arthur. Arthur was alive once more.

He continued his pace home. In eighteen more years, Merlin would drop his disguise. And for the ninth time since Arthur's long reign as king had finally ended, they would be reunited again.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank every single person who followed with me through to this end. This never would have happened without all of you. It means everything to me. This was supposed to be a simple one-shot, only to spiral out of control, thanks entirely to the comments given to me from that very first one-shot. From there, only your words of support and encouragement got me through to this end. I hope this ending gives you all everything you deserve. Thank you all.


End file.
